A  BOOK  OF 
PLAYS. 


BY  WITTER  BYNNER 


• 


NEW  YORK 

ALFRED  •  A  •  KNOPF 

MCMXXII 


Tietr  Copyright  1913  by  Mitchell  Kennerley:  1920  by    Witter  Bynner. 

Tht  Littlt  Kine  Copyright  1914  by  Mitchell  Kennerley,  1920  by  Witter  Bynner. 

Iphieenia  in  Taurii  Copyright  m5  by  Mitchell  Kennerley.  1920  by  Witter  Bynner. 

COPYRIGHT,  1922,  BY 
ALFRED  A.  KNOPF,  INC. 


All  rizhti  reserved  under  th*  International  Copyrieht  Act,  Perfor 
mances  forbidden  and  right  of  perform  ins  any  of  these  flays  must  bt 
made  to  Alfred  A.  Knopf,  Inc.,  230  West  Fony-Second  Street,  Ntw 
York. 


MANUFACTURED     IN     THE     UNITED     STATES     OF    AMERICA 


p< 

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£< 
'  /1 

CONTENTS  /K/ 

THE  LITTLE  KING,  A  PLAY  OF  THE  TERROR     7 
A   NIGHT  WIND,   A  PLAY  OF  GREENWICH 

VILLAGE  79 

TIGER,  A  PLAY  OF  THE  TENDERLOIN  IO3 

CYCLE,  A  PLAY  OF  WAR  147 

IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS,  AN  ENGLISH  VER 
SION  FROM  EURIPIDES  169 


NOTE 

Tiger  and  The  Little  King  and  the  Choruses 
from  Iphigenia  appeared  originally  in  The 
Forum — and  Cycle  in  The  Stratford  Maga 
zine. 

The  translation  of  Iphigenia  was  made  for 
Isadora  Duncan. 


THE  LITTLE  KING 


To  Homer  and  Carlota  Saint- 
Gaudens  and  their  Little  Boy 


Time:  The  morning  of  October  16,  1793. 

Scene:  In  the  Temple  at  Paris:  a  room  in 
which  is  imprisoned  Louis  XVII,  the  Boy-King 
of  France,  under  the  tutelage  of  Antoine  Simon 
and  his  wife,  Jeanne  Marie. 

Behind  a  large  iron-barred  door  at  the  back 
is  an  anteroom  from  which  one  staircase  de 
scends  to  the  courtyard  and  another  ascends  to 
a  platform  on  the  roof  of  the  Temple.  A 
closed  door  leads  at  the  left  into  a  bedroom. 
Near  it  stands  an  elaborate  bird-cage  in  which 
a  wooden  canary  moves  when  wound  up  and 
whistles  "  The  March  of  the  King."  In  the 
cage  are  also  some  live  canaries,  one  of  which 
has  a  red  ribbon  round  its  neck.  A  small  barred 
window  at  the  right  overlooks  the  courtyard. 
Under  it  are  a  box  of  mortar  and  some 
squared  stones,  one  or  two  of  which  have  al- 

7 


8  THE  'LITTLE  KING 

ready  been  set  into  the  window.  Nearby  is  a 
table,  a  cupboard  of  dishes  and  on  the  floor 
a  basket  of  soiled  linen. 

At  rise  of  the  curtain,  Jeanne  Marie,  with 
a  dish  in  her  hand,  stands  by  a  larger  table 
where  three  people  have  just  finished  a  light 
meal.  She  is  a  squat  woman  of  fifty  with 
thick  features  and  a  blotched  face.  While  she 
clears  the  table,  she  talks  with  Barelle,  appar 
ently  a  middle-aged  stonemason,  who  is  mix 
ing  mortar  with  his  trowel  near  the  window. 

JEANNE 

[As  she  carries  soiled  dishes  into  the  ante 
room] 

What? — Block  the  door  and  shut  out  all  the 
light? 

BARELLE 

The  window  first  and  afterward  both  doors. 
A  grating  left  there  for  his  meals,  but  not 
An  aperture  for  light  or  hope  or  mercy. 

JEANNE 

Ah,  but  the  fools  have  chosen  you  to  do 
The  job!  Luck's  with  us,  Citizen  Barelle. 


THE  LITTLE  KING 


BARELLE 

You   mean   God's  with   us.      God   himself, 

not  they, 
Selected  me, — to  be  His  instrument. 

JEANNE 

There's  damnable  divinity  in  gold. 
You  be  the  God.     I'll  be  the  instrument. 

BARELLE 

[Removing  from  the  window  a  cross-shaped 

iron  bar] 

O  Father,  prove  Thy    greatness    to    these 

people 
That  have  turned  coward  toward  a  little 

boy, 
Son  of  the  King  they  killed !    O  Lord,  reach 

down 

Thy  hand  to  us !     For  Jesus'  sake,  Thy  Son, 
Give  me  Thy  strength  to  save  the  Son  of 

France ! 

JEANNE 

[Seizing  the  iron  bar] 

Here's  holy  water  for  your  crucifix. 

[She  spits  on  it  and  throws  it  on  the  floor] 


io  THE  LITTLE  KING 

BARELLE 

God   pity  you. — By  noon   I   shall  be   back 
And  I  shall  bring  the  boy.     Does  the  King 
know? 

JEANNE 

Leave  that  to  me.    You  fetch  the  other  King. 
And,  please,  the  puppy-dog  has  learned  his 

change 

Of  name.     Not  King,  not  Louis  any  more! 
Just  call  him  Capet  and  he'll  wag  his  tail 
With  quite  remarkable  intelligence. 

BARELLE 

How  are  you  going  to  manage  with  Michel? 

JEANNE 

Michel  relieves  the  other  guard  at  noon. 
As  soon  as  he's  alone  he'll  signal  us. 

BARELLE 

Your  husband 

JEANNE 

Leave  my  husband  to  your  God! 
Leave  everything  to  God — except  His  Im 
age; 


THE  LITTLE  KING  n 

Soon  as  the  coin  comes  round — leave  that 

to  me; 
And  while  we're   talking — what  about  the 

coin? 

BARELLE 

One  payment  now.     The  rest  as  we  agreed. 

JEANNE 

God  in  three  parts!     And  one  part  now! 
Come  pay  it! 

BARELLE 

[Taking  from  inside   his  blouse   a  bag   of 
gold,  which  he  hands  to  her] 
And  you  at  noon  pay  me  my  King! 
[Exit  Barelle] 

JEANNE 

[To  the  bag  of  gold] 

Sweet  God ! 

[She  kisses  it,  then  hides  it  in  her  sewing- 
basket  on  the  small  table.  Humming  a  snatch 
of  the  Marseillaise,  she  throws  open  the  bed 
room  door  and  calls  through  it  with  her 
arms  akimbo] 


12  THE  LITTLE  KING 

Capet,  your  eyes  are  red.     Go  scrub  your 

face. 
Make  it  all  red  like  a  washerlady's  son. 

THE  KING 

[A  boy  of  nine,  his  voice  heard  outside] 
I  am  a  Queen's  son! 

JEANNE 

Times  have  changed,  my  dear, 
And  Marie  Antoinette  has  handkerchiefs 
To  wash,  she  cries  so  much.    Her  nose  now 

looks 
Like  anyone's  and  gets  as  red  as  mine. 

THE  KING 
It  is  not  red. 

JEANNE 

Go  make  yours  red,  Capet! 
For  you're  to  be  a  washerlady's  son 
This  very  day. — Sh-h!     Don't  you  tell  An- 

toine ! 

[She  hears  him  on  his  way  upstairs  singing 
a  revolutionary  chant.    She  quickly  closes  the 


THE  LITTLE  KING  13 

bedroom  door  and  turns  toward  the  ante 
room  where  Antoine  Simon  enters.  He  is 
a  big  shoemaker  of  fifty-five,  with  straight 
black  hair  hanging  long  and  a  swarthy  brut 
ish  face.  He  carries  aloft  two  bottles  of 
brandy] 

ANTOINE 

I've  brought  two   friends  with  me. 

JEANNE 

[Seizing  a  corkscrew] 

Off  with  their  heads! 

ANTOINE 

Let  go  my  friends!     I  bring  'em  here  like 

this 

And  you — you  murder  'em !    You  used  to  be 
A  stylish  drinker,  Jeanne  Marie.    But  now 
You're  an  old  soak. 

JEANNE 

Only  a  soak  would  talk 
Like  that.    I  taste  my  glass  the  same  as  ever. 
It's  you  who  booze  like  a  lout  and  waste  a 

lot 
On  Capet,  just  to  make  the  poor  brat  drunk. 


14  THE  LITTLE  KING 

ANTOINE 

You're  keen  to  see  him  caper  round,  yourself. 
But  you  don't  pay  your  share.    You  get  two- 
thirds 

As  much  as  me  for  staying  in  this  hole 
And  you  never  spend  a  sou. 
[He  sits  and  changes  his  boots  for  slippers] 

JEANNE 

[Carrying  dishes  from  table  to  cupboard] 

The  nation  takes 

Good  care  of  you,  husband, — also  of  me: 
Six  thousand  livres  your  share,  four  thou 
sand  mine. 

ANTOINE 

A  patriotic  cobbler  and  his  wife 
Cooped  up  like  marquises ! 

JEANNE 

You  make  me  sick, 

Talking  like  that  about  ten  thousand  livres. 
You  don't  know  what  you  want,  you  lucky 
fool. 


THE  LITTLE  KING  15 

ANTOINE 

Know  what  I  want?    I  want  to  be  let  off 
From  tutoring  Capet.     But  let  me  off 
They  won't.     They've  got  me  here.     And 

here  I  stick 
And  rot.     It's    bad    for    the    brain,    that's 

what  it  is. 

Capet's  much  luckier  than  we  are,  Jeanne, 
For  he  has  us,  he  has,  for  company, 
But  we  have  only  him. 

[The  King,  a  handsome ,  gentle  boy,  appears 
at  the  bedroom  door.  Antoine  hurls  his  boot 
at  the  King] 

Get  out  of  here! 

[The  King  looks  calmly  at  them  both,  then 
returns  into  the  bedroom.  Jeanne  Marie 
closes  the  door  after  him] 

JEANNE 

[In  a  superstitious  whisper] 
He  looked  at  me  as  my  boy  Raymond  did. 
He  looked  at  me    as    my    dead    Raymond 
did. 


1 6  THE  LITTLE  KING 

ANTOINE 

Forget  your   Raymond!     Capet  isn't  Ray 
mond. 

JEANNE 

You're  sore  because  he  waked  you  up  last 
night. 

ANTOINE 

With  his  damn  prayers!     I  fixed  him  good. 

He'll  not 
Be  trying  Trappist  tricks  on  me  again. 

JEANNE 
[Angrily] 

Yes,  fixed  him  good  and  maybe  fixed  your 
self. 

Doused  him  with  water,  let  him  lie  between 
The  icy  sheets  and  shiver  all  night  long! 
What  if  he's  caught  his  death? 

ANTOINE 

What  did  they  say 

When  I  asked  'em,  the  Committee,   about 
Capet, 


THE  LITTLE  KING 17 

Whether  they  wanted  me  to  poison  him? 
They  said,  '  Well,  don't  you  let  him  grow  too 

much !  ' 
Wife  dear,  what  did  they  mean? 

JEANNE 

They  meant,  *  Don't  add 
A  cubit  to  his  stature, — cut  him  short, 
But  not  too  short!  '     They  know  their  busi 
ness  best. 

Why  do  you  suppose  they    send    a   mason 
here? 

ANTOINE 

Barelle,  you  mean? 

JEANNE 

To  seal  that  window  up. 

ANTOINE 

Make  bats  of  us? 

JEANNE 

No,  not  of  us.    Of  him! 
They're  going  to  block  the  door  and  lock 
him  in. 


1 8  THE  LITTLE  KING 

ANTOINE 

And  lock  us  out? 

JEANNE 

We'll  feed  him  through  a  hole 
Cut  here  and  talk  to  him  an  hour  a  day. 

ANTOINE 
On  what? 

JEANNE 

On  Liberty. 

ANTOINE 

Woman,  he'll  live 
For  years. 

JEANNE 

O  no,  my  dove,  he's  delicate. 

ANTOINE 

But  I've  a  mind  to  do  for  him  today 
And  end  this  job. 

JEANNE 

You're  good  at  jokes  on  death. 


THE  LITTLE  KING  19 

Our  Lady  Guillotine  might  yet  arrange 
A  joke  on  you.     And,  citizen,  I  fear 
You  wouldn't  laugh  so  well  without  your 
mouth. 

ANTOINE 

But  I  don't  see  who'd  care  about  a  Capet. 

JEANNE 

Because  they  had  no  use  for  Louis  Capet? 
Because  they  say  about  the  Austrian, 
'  Why  does  she  'ask  for  cake,  when  there  is 

dust 
To  eat"?    But  people    have    soft    hearts. 

They  might 

Forgive  the  boy  his  dirty  breed,  Antoine. 
A  child's  a  child,  no  matter  from  what  stock. 
Besides  France  has  her  enemies  abroad 
Who  call  the  whelp  a  king.     France  has  her 

game 
To  play.     And  this  one  Louis — see? — this 

poor 

Thin  undecipherable  piece  may  be 
A  lucky  coin.    I  grasp  it  all  so  clearly. 
And  I  tell  you,  Antoine,  clever  as  you  are, 


20  THE  LITTLE  KING 

When  the  Council  General  sent  the  Simons 

here, 
They  put  their  trust  as  a  matter  of  fact — 

in  me. 

ANTOINE 

You  put  your  trust  in  your  four  thousand 

livres 

All  right,  but  drink  your  brandy  on  my  pay, 
On  the  six  thousand  which  they  give  to  me 
For  being  less  important  than  my  wife. 

JEANNE 

A  child's  head  looks  ridiculous  on  a  pike. 

ANTOINE 

No,  it  looks  neat. 

JEANNE 

Hey,  Antoine,  listen!     Drums. 

ANTOINE 

Some  one  they've  got  to  guillotine,  I  guess. 

JEANNE 

The  roof,  the  platform !    Call  if  you  can  see ! 


THE  LITTLE  KING  21 

ANTOINE 

I'll  bet  you  first  it's  Marie  Antoinette. 

JEANNE 

An  end  of  her?    Not  on  your  life,  my  dear! 
If  it  were  women  trying  her,  then  yes. 
But  this  Tribunal?     Men,  Antoine?     Not 
much! 

ANTOINE 

Justice  decides  and  Justice  is  a  female  I 

JEANNE 

They'll  feast  for  days  upon  those  dainty  eyes 
Before  the  garbage  goes.  If  she's  a  beauty — 
I  hope  I'm  not. 

ANTOINE 

You're  not 

JEANNE 

Trust  her  with  men? 
She's  got  you,  all  of  you,  just  where  you're 

weak — 
She'd  charm  the  hind  leg  off  the  Lamb  o' 

God! 


22  THE  LITTLE  KING 

ANTOINE 

Bet  me  the  brandy  on  it? — the  cost  of  the 
brandy? 

JEANNE 

Double  the  cost !    It's  not  the  Widow  Capet. 

ANTOINE 

[At  the  window] 

I'll   ask   Michel.      He'll  know.      He's   just 
come  on. 

JEANNE 

O  husband,  how  I  wish  the  Guillotine 

Was  near,  where  we  could  watch,  to  cheer 

us  up ! 

In  seven  weeks  I  haven't  seen  one  head. 
[Antoine  goes  upstairs  through    the    ante- 
room.     Jeanne  Marie  rapidly  takes  a  piece 
of  soiled  linen   and  wrapping   her   bag   of 
money  tightly  so  that  it  shall  not  jingle,  lays 
the  bundle  aside  on  the  little  table.      Then 
she  enters  the  anteroom  and  calls  to  her  hus 
band] 
Who  wins,  Antoine? 


THE  LITTLE  KING  23 

ANTOINE 
[Outsuk] 

I  do!     I  win! 

JEANNE 

The  Queen? 

ANTOINE 
[Entering] 

I  heard  'em  shouting,  "  Death  to  Madam 

Veto!" 

At  noon  they'll  split  her  like  an  angle  worm ! 
Hustle  him  out.     I've  news  for  him. 

JEANNE 

No,  no, 
Not  yet — he's  sick!     And  when  his  father 

croaked 

He  wouldn't  eat,  was  like  to  die  himself. 
Go  easy,  Antoine,  for  he's  off  his  feed. 
You  don't  know  what  might  happen.    This'll 

keep. 
You'll  have  the  fun.    I'll  not  sneak  in  ahead. 

ANTOINE 

The  brandy,  open  it.    No,  pay  me  first! 


24  THE  LITTLE  KING 

[He  opens  a  bottle.  She  reluctantly  pays 
him,  taking  the  money  from  her  stocking] 
I  tell  you  what  we'll  do.  We'll  make  him 

drink. 
And  then  we'll  make  him  dance,  dance  to  the 

bells, 
The  bells  that  ring  when  they  lift  up  her 

head! 
That's  one  on  you,  old  girl  I     Now  fetch 

the  brat, 
We'll  celebrate. 

JEANNE 

[Opening  the  door"] 

Capet!     Aristocrat! 

ANTOINE 

What  are  you  doing?  Eating  up  those  pears 
You  took  from  lunch  so's  not  to  eat  with  us? 
Come  out  here!  Join  your  betters! 

JEANNE 

Careful  now! 

[The  King  enters  from  the  bedroom.  He 
has  in  his  hands  two  pears,  which  he  lays 
on  a  chair.  Jeanne  Marie  intercepts  An- 
toine\ 


THE  LITTLE  KING  25 

Come  here,  Capet,  I  want  to  tell  you  some 
thing: 
A  caller's  coming — Citizen  Barelle. 

THE  KING 

You  told  me  that. 


ANTOINE 

You  like  him,  don't  you? 

THE  KING 

No. 

ANTOINE 

You  do,  you  little  liar. 

THE  KING 

No,  I  don't. 

ANTOINE 

Why  do  you  lie  to  me? 

THE  KING 

I  do  not  like  him. 


26  THE  LITTLE  KING 

JEANNE 

Have  you   forgotten   that  he  brought  you 

these? 
You  like  your  birds,  you  ought  to  like  him 

too. 

17 

THE  KING 

[After  a  pause] 

But  if  I  did,  they  would  not  let  him  come. 

ANTOINE 

Your  tutor,  Simon,  never  goes  away. 
They  let  him  come. 

JEANNE 

You're  fond  of  him,  ain't  you? 

ANTOINE 

Come,  answer  us!    You  love  me,  don't  you? 

THE  KING 

Yes. 

ANTOINE 

You  little  liar! 

THE  KING 

Why  do  you  ask  me  then? 


THE  LITTLE  KING  27 

JEANNE 

D'you  like  me,  Capet? 

THE  KING 

Where's  my  Mama-Queen? 
She  isn't  walking  up  there  any  more. 
I  listen  and  I  listen.     Is  she  sick? 
Where  have  they  taken  her? 

ANTOINE 

Don't  use  that  word! 

JEANNE 

Don't  you  say  Queen !     Your  tutor  doesn't 
like  it. 

THE  KING 

Where  is  she  gone? 

JEANNE 

She's  sick. 

THE  KING 

I  thought  she  was. 

O  can't  I  go  to  her?     Please  can't  I  go 
To  her? 


28 THE  LITTLE  KING 

JEANNE 

Not  much  I 

THE  KING 

Then  can't  I  send  her  these? 
O  can't  I?     Can't  I  send  her  my  canaries? 

JEANNE 

You  haven't  heard  that  Citizen  Barelle 
Will  bring  Robert,  the  washerwoman's  boy, 
To  stay  a  little  while  and  play  with  you? 

THE  KING 

0  Master,  let  me  send  her  my  canaries? 

ANTOINE 

Sit  down.    We're  going  to  celebrate.    Three 

glasses ! 
[Jeanne  Marie  brings  the  glasses] 

THE  KING 

1  do  not  care  for  one. 

ANTOINE 

Sit  down,  I  say ! 

Here's  to   the  Guillotine!      Pick  up  your 
glass. 


THE  LITTLE  KING  29 

[The  King  draws  back] 
Do  you  want  it  down  your  neck?    The  Guil 
lotine  ! 

And  my  good-luck !    Come  on  now. 
\_Antoine  and  Jeanne  Marie  drink,  then  he 
makes  the  King  drink] 

THE  KING 

What  good-luck? 

JEANNE 

\With  a  moment  of  pity~\ 

It's  better  luck  than  you  would  understand. 

ANTOINE 

I  won  a  bet,  young  man.     I  won  that  wine. 

JEANNE 

And  it's  a  happy  day  in  the  Republic ! 

THE  KING 

If  it's  a  really  happy  day,  I'm  glad. 

ANTOINE 

Then  drink  to  France! — Our  Lady  Guillo 
tine 
Drinks  blood  today  to  France ! 


30  THE  LITTLE  KING 

THE  KING 

Who  is  it  now? 

JEANNE 

[Preventing  Antoine  from  telling] 

People  you  know  who  used  to  be  at  Court. 

ANTOINE 

There's  no  more  Court. 

THE  KING 

O  dear,  why  do  they  kill 
Good    people, — only    good,    kind     people? 
Why? 

ANTOINE 

Dunno.    They  have  a  funny  way  with  them. 
They'll  take  me  next. 

THE  KING 

They'll  never  take  you,  Master. 

ANTOINE 

Ain't  you  the  little  joker!     Catch  your  ball! 
Why  don't  you  hold  your  hands  out,  blun 
derhead? 
Can't  even  learn  to  catch  a  ball !  We'll  see 


THE  LITTLE  KING  31 

If  you  can  sing.   You  know  I   Your  favorite  I 
[He  sings,  Jeanne  Marie  joining  him'] 
Madam  Veto  thought  she  could 
Make  all  Paris  run  with  blood; 
But  it  didn't  come  off, 
Thanks  to  a  cough — 
(Dance,  dance  the  Carmagnole!) 
Thanks  to  a  cough — 
Of  the  cannon! 
Put  spirit  in  it,  Capet.     Now!   Pipe  up! 

THE  KING 

"  Madam  Veto  thought  she "  O  no,  no ! 

I  cannot  sing  that  song. 

ANTOINE 

Why  not? 

THE  KING 

Because 

You  mean  my  Mother.  And  it  isn't  true. 
She  hasn't  done  them  any  harm.  She  loves 
Her  people,  Mother  does. 

ANTOINE 

She  loves  her  wolves, 


32  THE  LITTLE  KING 

Her    Austrians!      Her    people    aren't    the 
French. 

THE  KING 

Her  people  are  the  French.    She  told  me  so. 

ANTOINE 

You  going  to  sing? 

THE  KING 

How  can  I  sing  it,  Master? 
I  cannot  sing  bad  songs  about  my  Mother. 

ANTOINE 

You  sang  it  yesterday. 

THE  KING 

Master,  I  didn't. 

ANTOINE 

Didn't  he,  Jeanne  Mane? 

JEANNE 

Of  course  he  did. 

THE  KING 
I   didn't. 


THE  LITTLE  KING 33 

ANTOINE 

Little  fool,  you  don't  know  what 
You  do.     Get  drunk.     Here,  get  a  jag  again 
And  sing!     You're  jolly  when  you're  drunk. 
To  France! 

THE  KING 

O  no,  no,  no! — not  if  I  sang  that  song! 
What  if  my  Mother  heard   me    sing   that 
song? 

ANTOINE 

She's  heard  you  sing  it !    Sure  she  has !     It's 

done 
Her  good,  shown  her  how  well  I  keep  my 

word: 

*  He  shall  receive  a  royal  education; 
We  shall  instruct  him  to  forget  the  past 
And  only  to  remember  he's  a  child 
Of  the  one  and  indivisible  Republic/ 
You   sing  your  song.     You  won't?     Then 

take  this  drink. 
The  young  wolf  shuts  his  teeth.    See,  Jeanne 

Marie, 


34  THE  LITTLE  KING 

What  savage    little    teeth!     He    must    be 

tamed. 
Where's   there   a  knife   to  pry  them   open 

with? 
We'll  cure  his  pride.     Now  will  you  sing 

that  song? 
Down  on  your  knees !     Learn  this • 

JEANNE 

Let  him  alone. 

ANTOINE 

Obedience  comes  first  in  Simon's  course. 

[He  forces  the  King  to  the  floor'} 

Open  your  mouth.     Drink  this.     Well  then, 

try  this, 
Try  this ! 

JEANNE 

Antoine !     Give  me  that  knife  I 
[She  takes  it  from  him} 

ANTOINE 

Get  up. 

[He  roughly  lifts  the  motionless  King} 
Open  your  mouth  and  say  you  ask  my  pardon 


THE  LITTLE  KING  35 

And  we'll  postpone  the  music-lesson.  What? 
Won't  talk? 

[Jeanne  Marie  turns  toward  the  anteroom, 
where  Barelle  enters,  followed  by  Robert , 
who,  looking  like  the  King  in  height,  color 
and  feature,  brings  a  basket  of  clean  clothes 
and  a  bouquet  of  roses  tied  with  the  tricolor. 
They  see  Antoine  about  to  strike  the  King 
with  the  cross-shaped  iron  bar] 

BARELLE 

You  dog !    Is  that  good  tutelage  ? 

JEANNE 

For  insolence  it  is ! 

ANTOINE 

The  little  snob, 
I   couldn't  make   him   drink  the   health  of 

France ! 

THE  KING 

(Grasping  the  glass) 

You  lie! — To  France! 

[As  he  holds   the   brandy   high    and    then 

drinks,  the  bells  ring  out] 


36  THE  LITTLE  KING 

JEANNE 

The  bells! 

ANTOINE 

She's  dead!     She's  dead! 
The    holiday!      The    Carmagnole!      She's 
dead! 

THE  KING 

What  do  you  say?     I'm  dizzy.     France  is 
dead? 

JEANNE 

France  that  was  crucified — has  come  to  life ! 

ANTOINE 

The     resurrection!       Dance,     my    darling, 

dance ! 

[They   start  singing   the  Marseillaise  and 
take  his  hands] 

THE  KING 

No! — not  to  that  tune!     Wait  and  I  will 

dance. 

[He  breaks  away   and  turns   on   the  catch 
which  sets  the  toy  canary  whistling] 


THE  LITTLE  KING  37 

I'll  dance  to  my  tune,  mine! — The  March 

of  the  King! 
[Jeanne  Marie  turns  of  the  catch] 

BARELLE 

[Interposing  between  Antoine's  anger  and 

the  King] 

Go  slowly,  Citizen,  to  cure  a  King. 

The  lilies  flourished  for  a  thousand  years. 

Uprooting  them  takes  time. 

JEANNE 

Well, — time  takes  root. 

BARELLE 

How  are  your  birds,  Capet? 

ANTOINE 

They  sing,  but  he? — 
He  has  the  pip! 

BARELLE 

[Crossing  to  work  at  the  window] 

I  left  an  officer 

Behind  me  on  the  stairs  whose  legs  were 
weak 


38  THE  LITTLE  KING 

With  too  much  holiday.     He's  bound,  he 

says, 
'  To  mourn  the  dead  with  Citizen  Simon.' 


JEANNE 

[Handing  Antoine  the  bottle  and  glasses] 
Here!  Comfort  him!    The  platform's  pleas- 

anter. 

\While  Barelle  fits  a  stone  into  the  window, 
Jeanne  Marie  sees  Antoine  out  and  closes 
the  heavy  door  after  him] 

THE  KING 

[Politely  to  Jeanne  Marie] 
He  doesn't  understand  about  the  window. 
You  said  that  he  was  going  to  mend  the 
window. 

JEANNE 

That's  what  he's  doing.    There  were  holes 
in  it. 

BARELLE 

Let's  see  which  one  is  taller  of  you  boys. 
[They  measure  back  to  back] 


THE  LITTLE  KING 39 

ROBERT 

We're  just  the  same. 

THE  KING 

Why,  yes,  we're  just  the  same. 
[Receiving  from  Robert  the  bunch  of  roses'] 
Thank  you,  Robert. 

ROBERT 

I  thought  you'd  like  them.     Look! 
Look  underneath  the  roses, — look  at  this  I 

THE  KING 

My  flower,  my  flower! 

BARELLE 

A  lily  for  the  King. 

[  The  King  kisses  the  lily  and  hides  it  again 
under  the  roses~\ 

THE  KING 

Sir,  you've  been  kind  to  me  both  times  youVe 

come. 

Last  time  you  brought  me  my  canary-birds. 
I  have  not  anything  to  give  to  you 
But  these  two  pears  which  I  have  saved  from 

lunch. 


40  THE  LITTLE  KING 

And,  just  because  I  am  so  poor,  I  beg 
That  you  will  please  me,  sir,  by  taking  one. 
And  will  you  take  the  other  one,  Robert  1 

BARELLE 

I  thank  your  Majesty. 

JEANNE 

Get  up !     Don't  call 
Him  that.     It  isn't    done.      You're    right, 

they  are 

As  like  as  peas.    Listen  to  me,  Capet. 
Take  off  your  things.     Put  on  Robert's. 

THE  KING 

What  for? 

JEANNE 

[On  guard  near  the  big  door\ 
You're  going  to  be  Robert.     Obey  Barelle, 
Do  everything  he  says.     For,  if  you  don't, 
They'll  kick  you,  whip  you  and  cut  off  your 
head. 

BARELLE 

You'll  come  with  me? 


THE  LITTLE  KING  41 

THE  KING 

I'll  go  with  you  and  do 
Just  what  you  tell  me  to.    But  afterwards 
They'll  punish  me. 

BARELLE 

You  do  not  understand. 
We  are  your  friends.    We  come  to  free  you, 
Sire. 

THE  KING 

My  Mother  too? — my  Mother? 

BARELLE 

Where  you  go, 

The  Queen  shall  follow  you.     Be  sure  of 
that. 

THE  KING 

Then  take  me  to  her!     That  will  make  me 
sure. 

BARELLE 

Robert,  your  coat! 

[Robert  takes  off  his  coat  and  waits  by  the 

bedroom  door~\ 


42  THE  LITTLE  KING 

THE  KING 

I  think  you  are  my  friend. 

JEANNE 

[Showing  and  patting  her  bundle] 
He's  counted  out  the  proof  of  it  in  cash. 
He's  paid  me  money.  Think  of  it,  for  you ! — 
A  little  piece  of  rotten  meat  like  you ! 

BARELLE 

[To  Jeanne  Marie] 

You  are  the  rotten  meat  I  purchased! 

JEANNE 

Pooh! 
Don't  wave  your  crest  at  me,  old  cockatoo ! 

THE  KING 

You  mean  that  you  have  had  to  pay  for  me? 

ROBERT 

Come  quick,  for  we  must  change  our  clothes, 
you  know. 

THE  KING 

[To  Robert,  in  the  doorway] 

Mother  will  look  at  me  that  funny  way 


THE  LITTLE  KING  43 

And  not  know  which  to  do,  to  laugh  or  cry, 
And  not  do  either — but  just  look  at  me. 
Doesn't  your  mother  look  at  you  like  that? 

ROBERT 

Come,  little  King,  and  change  our  clothes. 

THE  KING 

Mine  does. 
[He  follows  Robert  into  the  bedroom] 

BARELLE 

You'll  watch  the  door? 

JEANNE 

[Opening  the  big  door  a  crack] 

The  platform-stairway  creaks. 
I  always  hear  him  coming. 

BARELLE 

[Looking  through  the  window] 
What? — Two  guards? 

JEANNE 

We'll  have  to  wait  till  Michel's  there  alone, 

Before  you  start. 

[She  sits  and  sews  listening  by  the  big  door] 


44  THE  LITTLE  KING 

BARELLE 

[Setting  another  stone  in  place,  watching] 
I  wish  that  you  had  told  Antoine. 

JEANNE 

I'm  no  such  fool.    I  know  Antoine. 
He  would  have  shilly-shallied  half-a-year. 
Antoine's  a  coward.     If  I  do  the  thing, 
Saving  him  all  the  pains  and  half  the  cash, 
He'll   thank  me  when  it's  done.     I  know 
Antoine. 

BARELLE 

He  may  come  down. 

JEANNE 

Then  let  me  manage  him, 
Bottle  him  up  again  and  think  for  him 
And  act  for  him, — and  put  a  sum  away 
With  which  to  make  him  love  me  by-and-by. 

BARELLE 

How  little  you  have  learned  from  our  mis 
take! 
You  care  for  him  by  caring  for  his  money 


THE  LITTLE  KING  45 

As  we  took  care  of  you  by  keeping  yours. — 
There  would  have  been  no  need  of  blood 

and  tears, 

If  only  my  poor  friends  had  counted  well 
And  learned  the  deadly  peril  of  too  much 
And  dared  to  be  contented  with  enough. 

JEANNE 

Enough  is  not  enough  and  never  will  be. 
I  tell  you,  Citizen,  there's  no  such  thing 
As  coin  enough.    Look  at  the  two  of  us ! — 
You've  had  too  much  and  you  philosophize. 
I've  had  too  little  and  I  kick  up  hell. 
But  those   who  have   enough — lie   in  their 

graves. 
Too  much,   too  little — life!     Enough — the 

end. 

[The  boys  enter,  each  in  the  other's  clothes. 
The  King  has  Robert's  liberty  cap  in  his 
hand] 

THE  KING 

I  have  on  everything.    But  not  the  cap ! 

JEANNE 

Put  that  on  too.    No  matter  where  you  go, 


46  THE  LITTLE  KING 

You'll  never  wear  a  crown  in  France  again. 
Put  that  on  too,  my  darling  Citizen. 
[The  King  still  holds  it  in  his  hand] 

BARELLE 

Run  back  again,  if  anyone  should  come, 
And  change  the  jackets — that  would  do. 

JEANNE 

And  then 

Come  out  again  like  you'd  been  playing  ball. 
Here,  Capet,  take  it,  have  it  in  your  pocket. 
When  Michel's  by  himself,  Barelle,  don't 

wait 
To  talk.    Just  go.    See,  Capet,  there's  your 

load. 
I've  lightened  it, — so's  not  to  strain  your 

wings. 

[She  sits  and  sews  again  by  the  big  door. 
The  King  tries  the  weight  of  the  basket, 
then  lays  it  down  and  stands  watching  Rob 
ert.  Presently  he  takes  Robert  by  the  hand 
and  leads  him  to  the  cage  of  canaries] 

THE  KING 
[Softly] 
I  like  the  one  you  gave  me  best  of  all. 


THE  LITTLE  KING  47 

My  toy  canary  sings  *  The  March  of  the 

King' 
And  the  one  you  gave  me  tries  to  copy  him. 

[They  sit  on  the  floor  by  the  cage] 

I've  tied  a  little  ribbon  on  his  neck 

To  tell  him  by. — I  think    he    knows    me, 

Robert. 
He  lets  me  take  him  out  of  the  cage  and 

talk 
To  him.    And  he  turns  his  head  and  looks. 

And  once 

He  sang  to  me  sitting  right  on  my  finger. 
O  how  I  wish  my  Mama-Queen  could  see 

him! 

They  wouldn't  let  me  send  him  up  to  her. 
She's  sick  and  ought  to  have  all    sorts    of 

things 
To   comfort   her. — Perhaps   they'll  let  me 

send 
My  flowers  to  her.     Wouldn't  you  like  to 

have  me?' 

To  comfort  her,  Robert,  instead  of  me, 
Because  she's  sick,  you  know? 


48  THE  LITTLE  KING 

ROBERT 

Yes,  little  King. 

THE  KING 

I  do  not  like  to  have  you  call  me  King. 
They  might  not    let    you    play    with    me 

again.  .  .  . 
And  then  besides  it  means  my  Father's  dead. 

ROBERT 

The  King  is  dead, — long    live    the    Little 
King! 

THE  KING 

The  night  he  left  he  took  me  on  his  knee 
And  held  my  hand  and  made  me  swear, 

Robert, 

That  I'd  forgive  his  people  everything 
And  not  be  harsh  with  them  when  I  grow  up. 
And  don't  you  think  that  that  was  like  Our 

Savior? 
Next  day  my  Mother  helped  me  pray  for 

him; 

But  when  I  tried  to  think  of  the  good  God, 
I  couldn't  think  of  anyone  but  Papa. 
Why  did  they  kill  him,  Robert? 


THE  LITTLE  KING  49 

ROBERT 

Mother  says 
Because  their  hearts  are  bronze. 

THE  KING 

I  told  my  Father, 

The  day  I  lost  Moufflet,  my  dog,  the  day 
We  came  to  the  Temple  and  the  men  stuck 

out 
Their  tongues  and  knocked  the  statue  down 

and  called 

My  Mother  names,  I  told  my  Father  then 
How  bad  they  were.    But  he  said,  '  No,  they 

weren't.' 
He  said  that  they  would  understand  him 

some  day 

And  find  that  we  were  just  like  them  and  ask 
Our  pardon  for  the  way  they  treated  us. 
You  ought  to  have  seen  how  Mama  looked 

at  him ! 
And  then  she  kissed  him.     Then  she  kissed 

me,  too 

And  cried,  Robert,  because  I  think  she  knew 
Better  than  Papa  what  was  happening. 
There's  nobody  so  wonderful  as  Mama. 


50  THE  LITTLE  KING 

Why  do  they  call  her  names  and  sing  bad 

songs 
About  her,  when  she's  good?  My  Mother's 

good. 
She  doesn't  hate  the  people. 

JEANNE 

Shut  your  mouth, 
Capet,  and  pay  attention!     Watch  Barelle! 

BARELLE 

He  will  not  go,  the  man  will  never  go ! — 
Hast  Thou  forgotten  us? 

JEANNE 

Don't  drag  in  God. 
Just  wait   and  watch   and,   when   the   time 

comes,  act. 

You'll  learn  some  day  there  isn't  any  God. 
[They  all  wait  a  moment  or  two,  silent'] 

THE  KING 

[Whispering,  close  to  Robert] 
When  I  was  little,  Mama  had  her  hair 
Away  up  high  with  a  hundred  waves  in  it. 
And  on  the  waves  were  tiny  ships,  Robert! 


THE  LITTLE  KING  51 

O  it  was  wonderful!     She  waked  me  up 
To  let  me  see  it. — And  I  had  a  sword. 

JEANNE 

[Jumping  to  her  feet] 

He's  coming!    Quick,  the  both  of  you,  get  in 

there ! 

[The  boys  run  into  the  bedroom.  Jeanne 
Marie  shuts  them  in,  then  sits  again  and 
sews.  Barelle  works  at  the  window~\ 

ANTOINE 
[Entering] 
We  want  another  bottle  of  that  brandy. 

JEANNE 

Here,  take  it.     Drink  it  up.     To  hell  with 
Queens ! 

ANTOINE 

What's  the  son  of  the  she-wolf  doing,  hey? 
[To  Barelle] 

I'm  not  supposed  to  take  my  eye  off  him, 
You  know.     Even  asleep,  one  eye  must  be 
Propped  up  and  watching  him.    A  pretty  job ! 
Where  is  he? 


52  THE  LITTLE  KING 

JEANNE 

Here's  your  bottle. 

ANTOINE 

[Brushing  her  aside  and  opening  the  door 
of  the  bedroom] 

Come  on  out 
Of  there! 

[Stopping  short,  then  turning  savagely] 
What's  this,  Barelle? 

BARELLE 

What,  Citizen? 

ANTOINE 

They're     changing     coats! — Barelle,     what 
game  is  this? 

JEANNE 

If  brandy  makes  a  muddle  in  your  brain 

ANTOINE 

Come  out  here,  you  two ! 

[The  King  enters,  his  coat  in  his  hand] 

Both  of  you ! 

[Robert  follows,  cap  on    but    carrying    his 
coat] 


THE  LITTLE  KING  53 

By  God! 

What  is  this  game  you're  playing? 

ROBERT 

Citizen 

THE  KING 

We're  playing  ball. 

ANTOINE 

Show  me  the  ball. 

THE  KING 

[Finding  it  in  the  pocket  of  his  coat'] 
It's  here. 

ANTOINE 

[Knocking  it  out  of  the  King's  hand~\ 
Ball  in  a  room  that  hasn't  any  light! 
What  were  you  changing  clothes  for? — tell 
me  that! 

THE  KING 

We  changed  our  jackets.     He  didn't  want 

to,  Master. 
I  made  him  play  a  game  of  masquerade. 


54  THE  LITTLE  KING 

ANTOINE 

The  hell  you  did ! 

[He  seizes  the  King  by  the  throat'] 

BARELLE 

Let  him  alone !    Hands  off ! 

ANTOINE 

Not  hands  off !    Heads  off !  And  yours  first, 
Barelle! 

JEANNE 

Yours  second,  Antoine! 

ANTOINE 

Hold  your  dirty  lip ! 
You're  in  on  it! 

JEANNE 

You  lose  your  head  like  this 
To-day,  you'll  lose  it  good  to-morrow.  Fool ! 
What  do  you  mean  to  do? 

ANTOINE 

Accuse  Barelle. 

JEANNE 
And  me? 


THE  LITTLE  KING 55 

ANTOINE 

And  you — and  get  ten  thousand 
livres 
For  taking  care  of  Capet  by  myself! 

JEANNE 

Try  it  and  see !    You  send  me  to  the  scaffold, 
I'll  just  turn  round  and  take  you  with  me, 

dear. 
You  broke  the  rules,  left  Capet  with  Ba- 

relle 

And  kept  the  officer  outside.     Why  that? — 
The  reason  was  a  hundred  thousand  livres! 

ANTOINE 

What's  this  ?    What  hundred  thousand  ? 

JEANNE 

[Lifting  her  bundle  from    the    table    and 
letting  it  drop  back  clinking] 
Use  your  ears. 

BARELLE 

I've  sixty  thousand  here  in  Paris, — yours! 
This  ring!     The  Prince  of  Conde's.     Take 
him  this, 


56  THE  LITTLE  KING 

He'll  pay  the  rest.     Now,  sir!  your  life  is 

more 

To  you  than  mine  to  me.    I've  got  you  there. 
But  you  can  save  yours,  mine, — and  earn, 

besides, 
Another  hundred  thousand  livres. 

JEANNE 

That  is — 
Besides  my  hundred  thousand? 

BARELLE 

Yes. 

JEANNE 

Good  God I 

BARELLE 

Nobody  ever  comes  who  knows  the  King. 

JEANNE 

And  I'll  fall  sick  and  we  can  get  away. 

BARELLE 

With  all  the  cash  you  need  for  all  your  lives. 


THE  LITTLE  KING  57 

JEANNE 

Antoine,  that  means  as  much  as  ten  whole 

years 
Of  prison  and  the  brat.    Go  on  upstairs ! 

ANTOINE 

You  should  have  let  me  in  on  this  before. 

JEANNE 

Shut  up  with  your  '  before  ' !  It's  '  now.' 
Go  on! 

That's  all  you've  got  to  do.  Go  on  up 
stairs  ! 

ANTOINE 

Well,  I  don't  know.    I  guess  I'd  better  do  it. 

JEANNE 

Here!    You're  forgetting  what  you  came  to 

fetch. 
[She  hands  him  the  second  bottle  of  brandy} 

ANTOINE 

[Brandishing  it  at  Barelle~\ 

I'd  like  to  smash  your  head,  you  Royalist! 


58  THE  LITTLE  KING 

BARELLE 

God  knows,  my  hand  would  like -.  • 

JEANNE 

Quit  quarrelling. 

I'll  see  if  Michel's  there  alone. — He  is! 
Go!  Go! 

BARELLE 

Give  me  your  jacket!  Quick,  Robert! 
Come !  and  be  careful,  O  be  careful,  Sire  I 

i 
THE  KING 

[As  they  put  him  into  Robert's  coat~\ 

My  little  birds,  good-bye.  Good-bye,  Robert. 

My  Mother-Queen  will  bless  you  when  I  tell 

her.— 

O  shall  I  see  green  trees  again  and  sky 
Spread  out? — O  think  of  it — the  sky  spread 
out! 

ROBERT 

And  lots  of  birds  I 

BARELLE 

Good-bye,  Robert 


THE  LITTLE  KING 59 

ROBERT 

Good-bye. 

BARELLE 

You  are  a  brave  and  darling  boy,  Robert. 

ROBERT 

Good-bye,  good-bye. 

[Barelle  kisses  him,  then  turns  to  the  King'] 

BARELLE 

Be  quiet  now  and  follow. 
Be  careful. 

THE  KING 

I'll  be  careful.    I  know  how. 

ROBERT 
Good-bye. 

ANTOINE 

0  shut  your  mouth ! 

\Wltn  a  sudden  blow  he  knocks  Robert  to 
the  floor] 

THE  KING 

[Standing  stock  still] 

1  cannot  go. 


60 THE  LITTLE  KING 

I  had  not  thought  of  that. — I  cannot  go. 
You  are  too  little. 

JEANNE 

I  '11  be  here.    I'll  take 
His  part. 

THE  KING 

You  can't,  you  can't,  when  Master — 

No! 

ANTOINE 

Go  while  the  going's  good.    You're  wasting 

time. 

[Antoine  lurches  out  and  is  heard  calling'] 
I've  found  the  brandy,   Friend.     She  tried 

to  hide  it. 

THE  KING 

O  no,  Robert!  the  people  over  there, 

If  they  should  find  me  gone,  would  punish 

you 
And  maybe  kill  you. 

ROBERT 
[Rising] 

But  they  won't  find  out. 


THE  LITTLE  KING  61 

I'll  turn  my  head  away  and  I  won't  talk 
To  them. 

THE  KING 

He'll  make  you  talk.      He'll  make 

you  sing. 

And   when   he    has   you    here    alone,    Rob 
ert ! 

I  had  not  thought  of  that.     I  cannot  go. 

BARELLE 

They'll  soon  find  out  who  Robert  is 

JEANNE 

What's  this? 

BARELLE 

They'll  think  that  he  was  used  against  his 

will, 

Without    his     knowing, — and     they'll     let 
him  go. 

THE  KING 

Once  you  are  here,  they  never  let  you  go. 
O  no,  Robert,  give  me  my  coat,  take  yours ! 
[He  slips  off  Robert's  coat} 


62  THE  LITTLE  KING 

JEANNE 

You  little  chump,  keep  on  that  coat !   Behave 
Yourself !    You're  stubborn  as  your  mother. 

THE  KING 

Ami? 

ROBERT 

Please,  little  King,  please,  please! 

BARELLE 

Your  Majesty! 

THE  KING 

[Resisting  Barelle's  attempts  to  put  the  coat 

back  on  him\ 

I  will  not  go.    You  cannot  make  me  go. 

Robert  could  never  stand  it  as  I  can. 

A  King  can  stand — O  more  than  anyone! 

JEANNE 

Here,  hold  him,  Citizen.     Bring  him  your 

cap, 

Robert.     Come  now,   Capet,  behave  your 
self! 


THE  LITTLE  KING 63 

THE  KING 

[Still  resisting  the  coat,  and  throwing  the  cap 

down~\ 

And  then,  besides,  I've  thought  of  some 
thing  else. 

You  might  save  me  and  not  my  Mother- 
Queen. 

She  might  be  left  here  all  alone  upstairs. 

JEANNE 

She's  not  upstairs,  you  little  whining  fool. 
They  should  have  killed  you  too  and  saved  us 

trouble, 
You  with  your  mother,  the  whelp  with  the 

she-wolf ! 

BARELLE 
O  shame  I 

THE  KING 

My  Mother-Queen? 

JEANNE 

To-day  at  noon. 

You  heard  the  bells,  Capet,  and  drank  her 
health ! 


64  THE  LITTLE  KING 

BARELLE 
Great  God  I 


ROBERT 

[Taking  the  other  boy's  hand] 
Poor  little  King! 

THE  KING 

-r  NF^  A 

It  is  not  true. 

You  wish  to  make  me  go.    It  is  not  true. 
If  it  were  true,  you  would  have  told  me  then. 
I  will  not  go  and  leave  my  Mother-Queen. 
I  will  not  go. 

JEANNE 

Tell  him  it's  true  and  get 
Him  out  of  here.    We  haven't  time  to  fool 
Away  like  this. 

BARELLE 

[Tenderly,  gravely] 

Your  Majesty,  it's  true. 

THE  KING 

My  Mama-Queen? 


THE  LITTLE  KING  65 

BARELLE 

Is  with  your  father,  Sire. 
She  died  to-day,  as  brave  as  she  had  lived. 
They  would  not  let  her  say  good-bye  to  you. 

ROBERT 

Poor  little  King! 

THE  KING 
[With  a  sob] 

She  isn't  dead!  no,  no, 
She  isn't  dead.     My  Mama  isn't  dead. 

BARELLE 

Be  brave,  your  Majesty,  as  she  was  brave. 
A  man  on  horseback  told  me  what  she  said. 
She   said:    'I   was   a   Queen   and   you   de 
throned  me. 

I  was  a  wife  and  you  have  killed  my  husband. 
I  was  a  mother  and  you  tear  my  children 
Away  from  me.    Only  my  blood  is  left. 
Make  haste  to  shed  it.    And  be  satisfied.' 

THE  KING 

O  she  was  brave,  my  Mother,  wasn't  she ! 
I'm  going  to  be  like  Mother. 


66  THE  LITTLE  KING 

ROBERT 

Little  King! 

BARELLE 

Then,   don't  you  see,  you  owe  it  to  your 

kingdom 

And  to  her  memory  to  come  with  me? 
That  will  be  brave,  your  Majesty. 

JEANNE 

Go  on, 

Flatter  him  up  1    Perhaps  he'll  take  to  that. 
I  never  saw  such  people  as  these  Capets. 

BARELLE 

And  you  shall  have  your  sword  again  and 

come 
Some  day  to  punish  murderers. 

THE  KING 

O  sir, 

I  promised  both  my  Father  and  my  Mother 
Never  to  hurt  the  people.     But  I'm  not 
Afraid  of  them.     My  Father  said  to  me 
He  could  not  run  away  from  them  and  be 
A  coward.    That  was  why  we  all  came  back. 


THE  LITTLE  KING  67 

And  I  should  be  ashamed  to  run  away 

And  not  be  like  my  Father  and  my  Mother. 

JEANNE 

Shut  up  his  talk!     Get  busy  while  there's 

time! 

Take  him! 

[Barelle  and  Jeanne  Marie  try  again  to 
force  Roberts  jacket  on  the  King,  who  strug 
gles  against  them] 

THE  KING 

No,  you  shall  not. 

BARELLE 

[Passionately] 

Your  Majesty! 

[They  lead  him  into  the  anteroom,  the  King 
contesting  every  inch  of  the  way] 

BARELLE 

For  God's  sake  I 

JEANNE 

Little  fool! 

THE  KING 

I  will  not  go, 


68  THE  LITTLE  KING 

BARELLE 

If  you  betray  us,  it  will  be  the  end. 

THE  KING 

0  won't  you  please  obey  me?     Won't  you 
please? — 

[He  breaks  away.  Barelle  follows  and  lays 
hold  of  him  again.  But,  with  a  sudden  royal 
gesture,  he  checks  Barelle  in  the  centre  of 
the  room\ 

1  am  the  King  of  France.    Obey  me,  sir, 
And  take  your  hands  away. 

BARELLE 

God's  will  be  done. 

JEANNE 

[  Trying  to  pass  Barelle~\ 
God's  nothing!     It's  the  antic  of  a  child! 
[Barelle  holds  Jeanne  Marie  back  while  the 
King  helps  Robert  into  the  washerboy's  coat} 

THE  KING 

But  O  be  sure,  be  sure  you  come  again! 
The  Simons  will  not  dare  to  tell  on  you, 


THE  LITTLE  KING  69 

For  I  should  tell  on  them.  Take  all  the 
clothes ! 

[Picking  up  Jeanne  Marie's  bundle  from  the 

table] 

Take  these  as  well,  Robert.  And  look  in 
side 

And  you  will  find  a  keepsake  there  from  me. 

JEANNE 

Not  on  your  life ! 

THE  KING 

You  wish  me  then  to  tell? 
[Jeanne  Marie  stands  back  glowering  while 
he  gives  Robert  the  bundle.     Then  he  takes 
the  lily  from  his  bouquet  and  hands  it  to 
Barelle] 
This  lily  is  much  better  than  the  pear. 

BARELLE 

I  ask  you,  Sire,  to  let  her  keep  the  money. 
She  would  be  kinder. 

THE  KING 

Take  them  all,  Robert. 
[Barelle  bows    and    hides    the    lily    in    his 
breast~\ 


70  THE  LITTLE  KING 

JEANNE 

You  little  cur — you  devil  out  of  hell! 

[Hearing  the  stairs  creak] 

The  officer! 

[Barelle  crosses  to  the  window  and  seals  the 

next  to  the  last  opening] 

ANTOINE 

[Entering,    at    the    big    door,    heavy    with 
brandy,  his  finger  on  his  lips] 

He's  on  his  way  downstairs. 

BARELLE 

It  does  not  matter  now.     My  work  is  done. 

ANTOINE 

[Looking  closely  at  Robert] 
Your  work  is  done,  you  say?    What  do  you 
mean? 

BARELLE 

All  but  one  stone. 

ANTOINE 

One  stone? 


THE  LITTLE  KING 


THE  KING 

Good-bye,  my  friends. 

[Barelle  kneels  and  kisses  the  King's  hand. 
The  King  will  not  let  Robert  kneel,  but  puts 
an  arm  about  him  and  kisses  him  on  the 
lips.  Robert  goes  out  with  the  basket  at  the 
big  door] 

BARELLE 

Surely  you  cannot  punish  him  for  this! 
What  has  he  done  but  shown  that  tyranny 
May  go  by  any  name  and  wear  red  caps,  — 
While    loving    comradeship    may    dwell    in 

kings  !  — 

Father,  forget  not  he's  a  little  boy! 
[Jeanne  Marie  hurries  Barelle  out  and  closes 
the  door  after  him] 

JEANNE 

He  wouldn't  go. 

ANTOINE 

You  rotten  little  snake  ! 


JEANNE 


ANNE 

He  gave  the  money  back.    He  said  he'd  tell. 


72  THE  LITTLE  KING 

THE  KING 

You  cannot  buy  and  sell  the  King  of  France. 

ANTOINE 

But  we  can  make  him  pay ! 

[He  goes  to  the  cage  of  canaries  and  starts 

to  bring  a  chair  down  over  it] 

THE  KING 
[In  the  way] 

What  are  you  doing? 

ANTOINE 

I'm  smashing  up  your  royal  bird  that  pipes 
'  The  March  of  the  King. ' 

THE  KING 

But  not  the  other  birds! 
O  not  the  one ! 

ANTOINE 

Which  one? 

THE  KING 

— that  sings  to  us! 
The  little  one!     The  ribbon's  on  his  neck! 


THE  LITTLE  KING  73 

ANTOINE 

So  that's  your    toy! — your    kingdom    in  a 

cage! 
And  orders,  marks!    We'll  see! 

THE  KING 

The  ribbon's  red! — 
He's  my  republican  canary,  Master! 

ANTOINE 

Favorite  of  the  King,  come  out  here,  you! 
[He  thrusts  his  hand  into  the  cage  and  takes 
out  the  bird] 

THE  KING 

O  give  him,  give  him  to  me ! 

ANTOINE 

There  he  is. 

[He  wrings  the  birds  neck  and  throws  its 
dead  body  on  the  floor] 

THE  KING 

[Kneeling  and  taking  the  bird  up  tenderly] 
O    listen    to    me,    please,    dear    Heavenly 
Father! 


74  THE  LITTLE  KING 

JEANNE 

Don't  mention  God  again! — There    is    no 
God. 

THE  KING 

— Help  me  to  be  as  brave  as  Mother  was. 

ANTOINE 

Get  up.     Give  that  to  me.     Here,  Jeanne 

Marie, 

[Taking  the  bird  from  the  King,  he  tosses 
it  to  her] 

Cook  it  for  supper. 

[He  jerks  the  King  to  his  feet  and  points 
to  the  red  cap  on  the  floor] 

Now  pick  up  that  cap! 

JEANNE 

And  put  it  on  again! 

[The  King  faces  them,  not  moving] 

ANTOINE 

You  dirty  pup! 

JEANNE 

You  put  that  on! — or  else  we'll  punish  you 


THE  LITTLE  KING  75 

Worse    than    you've    ever    dreamed.     The 

window's  sealed, 
Capet.     And  now  we'll  seal  this  door,  and 

this, 

And  cut  a  little  hole  here  in  the  middle, 
And  then  hand  in  your  food  to  you  and  leave 

you. 

Alone  in  the  dark,  all  day,  all  night,  forever. 
You've  heard  the  rats  here  in  the  walls? 

They'll  all 
Come  out,   when   you  can't  see  them,   and 

they'll  eat 

Your  food.     And  then  they'll  eat  your  fin 
gers,  Capet. 
And  bugs  and  worms  and  snakes  will  come 

and  wait 
For  you  to  go  to  sleep. — Pick  up  that  cap. 

ANTOINE 

Pick  up  that  cap. 

[The  King  moves  toward  it  and  quietly 
stands  on  it,  facing  them.  Antoine  crosses 
and  sets  the  last  stone  in  the  window,  darken 
ing  the  stage  so  that  only  shadows  are  seen\ 

JEANNE 

{Pointing,  trying  to  laugh] 


76  THE  LITTLE  KING 

Behold  the  little  King! 
[Then  they  open  the  big  door  and  close  it 
behind  them,  and  leave  him  standing  in  the 
darkness] 

CURTAIN 


A  NIGHT  WIND 


To  Edna  St.  Vincent  Millay 


[Heard  coming  up  the  dark  stairs,  and 
pausing  in  the  door  at  the  back,  a  young 
Poet  enters  The  Pyramid,  a  dingy  huddled 
half-lighted  coffee-room  in  Greenwich  Vil 
lage.  At  the  left,  from  behind  a  screen, 
which  partly  hides  a  stove  and  shelves 
cluttered  with  pots  and  pans,  appears  ear- 
ringed  Egypt,  draped  in  a  brightly  em 
broidered  shawl,  an  Alexandrian  with 
deep  quick  eyes.  She  stands  against  the 
screen  and  nods  to  the  poet,  who  crosses 
and  sits  near  her  on  a  bench  beside  one  of 
the  long  low  rough  tables  of  smoky  wood. 
He  gazes  at  her,  silent'} 

EGYPT. 

[In  a  warm  husky  voice] 
Why  do  you  look? 

79 


80  A   NlGHT-WlND 

THE  POET. 

Your  eyes. 

EGYPT. 

What  do  you  find? 

THE  POET.  S^ 

You  have  had  secrets,  Egypt. 

EGYPT. 

So  have  you. 

THE  POET. 

But  I  tell  all  mine. 

EGYPT. 

O,  what  a  foolish  poet! 
You  should  almost  tell  them.     People  listen 

then, 

Hoping  to  hear  the  secret.     If  I  told, 
Would  anybody  listen  any  more? 
Secrets  are  what  they  buy  here  with  their 

coffee, 

Shadows  of  secrets.     After  all,  my  friend, 
Secrets  themselves  are  not  mysterious, 
Only  their  shadows. 


A    NlGHT-WlND  8 1 

THE  POET. 

Such  as  death,  for  instance. 
Death   makes   of  life   a   secret  worth   the 

solving. 

Perhaps  if  we  could  solve  it,  see  beyond, 
Life  would  be  something  to  avoid  at  once. 
I'm  a  philosopher,  Egypt.     But  I'm  human. 
I  want  the  thing  I  know  I  shouldn't  want. 
You're  much  more  wonderful,  just  as  you 

are, 

Than  if  the  desert-cat  explained  herself. 
But  I  want  to  see  one  of  the  shadows  move, 
A  falling  fragment  of  the  pyramid. 

EGYPT. 

Life  is  the  pyramid,  with  death  inside. 

THE  POET. 

Let's  have  a  bit  of  the  surface  then.     Come 

on! 
One   of  your   secrets,   Egypt,   one   of  your 

loves, 
And  I'll  have  some  coffee  too  and  a  couple  of 

cakes. 


82  A   NlGHT-WlND 

EGYPT. 

Which  cake? 

THE  POET. 

The  dark  one  with  the  honey  in  it. 

EGYPT. 

And  the  secret  with  the  honey  in  it? 

THE  POET. 

Yes. 
Abdul,  for  instance. 

EGYPT. 

[Smiling  and  crossing  for  the  coffee"] 

Abdul  is  no  secret. 

Abdul's  the  evening  paper — of  last  year. 
I  read  him,  though.     The  news  is  never  new. 

THE  POET. 
Never? 

EGYPT. 

Well,  almost  never.     Once,  just  once. 
Only  one  secret. 


A   NlGHT-WlND  83 

THE  POET. 

Who  was  yours? 

[Egypt  returns  with  the  cofiee  and  cakes 
and,  as  she  sets  them  down,  whispers  in 
his  ear~\ 

THE  POET. 

Not  really? 

I  haven't  seen  him  round  here  for  some  time. 
Where  has  he  been? 

EGYPT. 

The  coast — with  Muriel. 

THE  POET. 

Oh? 

EGYPT. 

But  he's  back. 

THE  POET. 

And  she? 

EGYPT. 

She's  back.     Richer  than  ever. 


84  A  NIGHT-WIND 

Her    mother    died.     And    Muriel    gave    a 

party, 

Everything  gray  and  green  and  lavender 
To  go  with  absinthe  from  the  family-cellar. 
[Handing  him  a  clipping  which  she  unpins 
from  the  wall] 

The  San  Francisco  paper  told  about  it. 
He  arrived  in  town  this  morning.     He'll  be 

round. 
He'll  come  to  The  Pyramid  and  drink  his 

coffee 
And  never  speak. 

THE  POET. 

And  she? 

EGYPT. 

She  used  to  come — 
With  her  furs.     Not  any  more,  I  don't  know 

why. 
Perhaps  I  do.     I  hope  to  God  I  do. 

THE  POET. 

Does  Abdul  know  ? 


A    NlGHT-WlND  85 

EGYPT. 

He  knows  as  much  as  I  know. 
I  tell  him  everything  I  have  to  tell. 
I  take  off  all  my  shadows.     He's  a  bathtub. 
I  bathe  in  him. 

THE  POET. 

And  in  the  other  one? 

EGYPT. 

In  him,  you  mean? 

THE  POET. 

Your  secret. 

EGYPT. 

Don't  you  laugh. 
I  used  to  swim. 

[A  Girl  enters,  with  bobbed  hair  and  a 
surface  hardness,  handsome  tall  and 
strong,  yet  haggard  and  nervous] 

THE  GIRL. 

Give  me  some  coffee,  Egypt. 


86  A   NlGHT-WlND 

EGYPT. 

You  left  your  flask  at  home? 

THE  GIRL. 

I  got  to  quit. 

THE  POET. 
What's  up  ? 

THE  GIRL. 

I  got  to  sleep. 

THE  POET. 

On  coffee? 

THE  GIRL. 

Sure. 
Coffee's  my  good-night  kiss.     And  here's  my 

dreams. 

[Taking  out  of  her  smock  a  'phial  of  tab- 
lets  and  pouring  some  of  them  out  on  the 
table'} 

The  doctor  gave  'em  to  me.     One  of  'em, 
Not  more  than  one,  he  said.     But,  Lord, 
I  guess  I  must  'a'  got  a  pickled  heart! 


A  NlGHT-WlND  87 

Four  do  the  job  for  me.     I  tried  first  one, 
Then  two,  then  three.     But  four's  my  num 
ber,  kid. 
I  slept  last  night. 

[A  Fellow  comes  into  the  room,  with  a 
heavy,  surly  magnetism'} 

What  do  you  know !     He's  back ! 
You  never  answered  my  letter,  did  you ! 

THE  FELLOW. 

No. 

[Egypt  takes  a  hesitant  step  toward  him. 
He  nods  to  her  and  to  the  poet.  She 
crosses  to  the  stove  and  returns  with  two 
cups  of  coffee,  which  she  places  on  the 
table.  He  starts  again  toward  the  door\ 

EGYPT. 

You're  leaving? 

THE  FELLOW. 

Telephone. 

THE  GIRL. 

To  Muriel? 


88  A    NlGHT-WlND 

THE  FELLOW. 

Yes. 

THE  GIRL. 

You  got  a  date? 

THE  FELLOW. 

I  have.     In  half  an  hour. 
[He    goes    out.     Egypt    returns    to    the 
stove] 

THE  GIRL. 

I  thought  they  were  out  west. 

THE  POET. 

[Handing  her  the  clipping  from  the  table] 

They  were. 

THE  GIRL. 

[Reading] 

Some  baby ! 
Has  to  keep  going,  doesn't  she ! 

THE  POET. 

Good-looking, 


A   NlGHT-WlND  89 

Knows  what  she  wants  and  takes  it  too, 
that's  all. 

THE  GIRL. 

She  knows  what  other  people  want,  that's 

all- 
Takes  it  away  from  'em  for  fun,  that's  all, 
Buys  it  whether  she  wants  it  or  not,  that's 

all— 
To  spite  'em,  that's  her  way.     I'll  fix  her 

party, 
I'll  give  him  one  o'  these   and  make  him 

sleepy. 

THE  POET. 

That's  not  a  bad  idea. 

THE  GIRL. 

You're  right,  it  isn't. 
Here  goes  for  mine. 

[She  drops  four  tablets  into  her  coffee] 

EGYPT. 

[From  the  screen] 

Doesn't  it  spoil  the  taste? 


90  A   NlGHT-WlND 

THE  GIRL. 
No  taste  at  all. 


EGYPT. 

To  the  coffee? 

THE  GIRL. 

To  the  stuff. 
[Egypt  goes  behind  the  screen  again] 

THE  GIRL. 

[Continuing  to  the  poet] 
And  as  for  him,  he's  worse'n  Muriel  is, — 
A  great  big  husky,  playing  off  he's  sick, 
Pretending  that  his  heart  is  on  the  bum, 
Making  us  mother  him,  us  damn  fool  women. 
Why  is  it  women  like  to  be  damn  fools? 
Got  to  have  something.     Guess  I'll  buy  a 

dog — 
And  no  more  soul-stuff ! 


THE  POET. 

So  he  talks. 


A   NlGHT-WlND  91 

THE  GIRL. 

You  bet 

He's  glum  enough,  with  other  people  round — 
But  when  he's  alone  with  a  girl,  he  talks  his 

head  off. 

The  line  o'  soul-stuff  he  can  pull,  my  God ! 
Give  me  an  animal  that  knows  he's  one. 
[She   drinks    her   coffee,    while    the  poet 
crosses  to  the  screen  and,  with  his  hand  on 
its  tap,  speaks  beyond  it.     Egypt's  face  is 
visible  over  the  screen} 

THE  POET. 

There's  a  night-wind  on  the  desert.     Some 
thing  moves — 

A  fragment  falling  from  the  pyramid, 
The  shadow  of  a  secret. 

EGYPT. 

Let  it   fall. 

[They  do  not  notice  the  girl  slipping  four 
of  her  tablets  into  the  fellow's  cup'} 

THE  POET. 

Two  shadows,  Egypt. 


92  A   NlGHT-WlND 

EGYPT. 

Yes? 

THE  POET. 

One  secret,  Egypt. 

EGYPT. 

You  poets  know  too  much. 

[She  comes   to   the   table  with   her  own 
coffee] 

THE  POET. 

We  know  too  much — 
Yes,  about  everything  except  ourselves. 
[The  fellow  comes  back  again.  Egypt  in 
dicates  his  cup.  He  sits  with  head  and 
shoulders  forward,  his  hat  shading  his 
face.  They  all  drink  their  coffee,  except 
Egypt,  who  watches  him] 

THE  POET. 

How  soon  does  it  make  you  sleepy? 

THE  GIRL. 

Right  away, 
With  four  of  'em. 


A  NIGHT-WIND  93 

THE  POET. 

What  about  his? 


THE  GIRL. 

No  go. 

Let  'em  alone.     It's  a  free  world,  I  say. 
Each  to  his  taste,  however  bad  it  is! 

[Rising  dully} 
Good-night.     It's  me  for  bed. 

THE  POET. 

Sleep  well. 

THE  GIRL. 

You  bet. 

[She  goes  out.     The  poet  picks  up  the 
clipping  again'} 

THE  POET. 

[To  the  fellow'} 

I  see  that  you  and  Muriel  made  a  hit 
In  San  Francisco  with  your  absinthe  party. 
A  drink  out  there's  like  christening  a  ship, 


94  A  NIGHT-WIND 

Breaking  a  bottle  on  the  prow  of  the  world. 
Didn't  it  strike  you  that  way? 


THE  FELLOW. 

No. 

THE  POET. 

I'm  sorry. 
I'll  look  in  later,  Egypt. 

[Egypt  nods  and  the  poet  leaves  them. 
There  is  a  pause] 

EGYPT. 

Why  do  you  come  ? 
You  always  come  like  this.     And  you  never 

speak. 

Do  you  care  for  Muriel?    For  anyone?  .  .  . 
I  am  going  to  tell  you  something.     All  this 

time 
I  have  let  you  come.     You  can't  come  any 

more. 

It's  them  or  me.     It  can't  be  all  of  us. 
Here's  what  I've  got  to  say.     I've  gone 

along, 
I've  tried  it  out  the  way  you  told  me  to. 


A  NIGHT-WIND  95 

No  use,  there's  nothing  in  it.     You're  my 

man. 
But  we  got  to  be  clean,  we  got  to  be  straight 

with  ourselves, 

We  got  to  take  each  other  or  let  go. 
You  always  think  there's  something  round 

the  corner. 

I  used  to  think  so  too.     But,  after  all, 
Soon   as  you're  round  the  corner,   it's  the 

same — 
There's    something   round    another  corner, 

see? 
And  here's  the  truth  of  it,  here's  the  whole 

thing — 
There's  something  round  the  corner,  looking 

back, 
Something  that's  just  as  good,  the  thing  you 

had, 

Something  that's  better  if  you'll  only  take  it 
And  not  be  restless,  not  be  on  the  hunt, 
Looking    for    something    you     can    never 

find  ... 

Go  out  and  ask  the  sky,  all  by  yourself  .  .  . 
If  it's  a  home  you  had — honest-to-God 
Real  home,  I  mean — you'd  better  turn  around 


96  A  NIGHT-WIND 

And  choose  the  thing  you  know  you   got. 

Speak  up 
And  tell  me  now.     Do  you  want  this  home 

in  here? 

[She  presses  both  her  hands  to  her  heart] 
It's  here.     You  can  count  on  that,  it's  here. 

And  mine — 
Is  there — with  you,  old  boy. 

[She  clasps  his  hand  on  the  table] 

What  makes  your   hand — ? 
What  makes  it  cold!     You're  cold,  you're 

icy  cold! 

[His  arms  had  supported  his  weight.  As 
she  picks  up  his  two  hands,  his  body  falls 
forward.  She  lifts  him  up.  His  head 
topples  back  and  his  hat  off,  revealing 
a  face  dead-white  and  lifeless.  After  a 
moment,  she  is  sure.  She  lets  his  shoul 
ders  rest  again  on  the  table,  just  as  the 
girl  enters  breathless  at  the  door.] 


THE  GIRL. 

Has    he    drunk    it?     I    was    a    fool!     He 
mustn't  drink  it! 


A   NlGHT-WlND  97 

All  right  for  me,  but  I  forgot  his  heart! 
I  put  'em  in  his  coffee,  four  of  'em. 

[Knowing  by  the  look  in  Egypt's  face] 
I  killed  him,  Egypt,  but  I  didn't  mean  to ! 

EGYPT. 

I  wonder  if  he's  thinking  anything. 

THE  GIRL. 

And  Muriel  waiting  for  him. 

EGYPT. 

So  was  I. 

[The  poet  enters] 

THE  GIRL. 

He's  dead.     I  killed  him. 

THE  POET. 

Not  with  the  tablets ! 

THE  GIRL. 

Yes. 

THE  POET. 

[Appalled] 
It  will  be  all  right. 


98  A  NIGHT-WIND 

EGYPT. 

It  will  be  all  right  for  him. 

THE  POET. 

[Putting  the  fellow's  cup  into   his  own 
pocket'] 

It  was  his  heart.     I  saw  him.     I  was  here. 
It  was  his  heart. 


EGYPT. 

Take  her  away,  my  friend. 

THE  POET. 

What  else  can  I  do? 

EGYPT. 

Call  up  the  coroner. 

THE  POET. 

I'll  try  to.     But  it's  late — 

EGYPT. 

I  understand. 

They'll  come  here  in  the  morning.     That's 
all  right. 


A    NlGHT-WlND  99 

THE  POET. 

But  there's  no  one  with  you,  Egypt. 

EGYPT. 

Yes,  there  is. 

[The  poet  leads  out  the  dazed  girl. 
Egypt  closes  the  door  behind  them  and 
locks  it} 

EGYPT. 

[Returning  to  him] 

— Have  you  decided  to  come  home,  my  dear? 
[She  takes  off  her  bright-colored  shawl, 
covers  the  figure  with  it,  then  sits  beside 
him} 

CURTAIN 


TIGER 


To  Arthur  Davison  Ficke 


'Tiger,  tiger,  burning  bright 
In   the  forests   of   the   night. 
What  immortal  hand  or  eye 
Could  frame  thy  fearful  symmetry?9 


Time:  Evening. 

Scene:  A  room  in  a  house  not  far  east  of 
Times  Square.  A  curtained  door  at  the  back 
of  the  stage  leads  into  the  hallway.  A  closed 
door  at  the  right  leads  into  an  inner  bedroom. 
The  furniture  and  pictures  are  more  showy 
than  expensive.  The  shades  are  drawn. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain,  the  keeper  of  the 
house  sits  in  an  easy-chair.  She  is  a  woman 
of  thirty-five,  handsome,  well-dressed.  Her 
familiars  call  her  Tiger,  on  account  of  her 
hard,  lithe  brilliance.  She  is  looking  over  a 
handful  of  bills  and  writing  cheques  with  a 
fountain-pen  on  the  arm  of  the  chair.  On  a 
couch  reclines  Annabel,  a  girl  of  twenty-four, 
beginning  to  fade  under  her  paint,  but  an  effec 
tive  type  still,  with  her  hair  parted  and  drawn 
simply  over  her  forehead  to  a  flat  coil  behind. 
103 


104  TIGER 

She  is  in  a  loose,  thin  dressing-gown,  reading 
a  novel,  eating  chocolates  and  smoking  cigar 
ettes.  An  ash-tray,  cigarettes,  chewing-gum 
and  the  chocolates  are  on  a  chair  beside  the 
couch.  At  a  table  across  the  room,  a  man  of 
thirty,  with  somewhat  refined  features,  a  sug 
gestive  pallor  and  flush,  and  a  habit  of  biting 
the  skin  on  his  red  lips  and  of  rubbing  his 
thumb  over  his  finger-tips,  is  pouring  himself 
a  glass  of  straight  gin.  He  is  over-dressed, 
over-mannered  and  wears  several  bright  rings, 
but  might  pass  with  the  young  for  a  gentleman. 
On  account  of  what  is  known  as  his  'class,'  he 
has  been  dubbed  The  Baron. 

ANNABEL. 

Put  water  in  it,  Baron.     Spare  your  liver. 

BARON. 

Mind  your  own  liver  and  shut  up,  will  you? 

Whenever  I  want  your  dope,  I'll  ask  for  it. 
[She  returns  to  her  reading.  He  gulps 
his  drink,  then  loiters  toward  Tiger.  Sud 
denly  he  sits  on  the  arm  of  her  chair  t 
catches  her  close  and  kisses  her  hard] 


TIGER  105 

TIGER. 

[Pushing  him  away~\ 
Cut  out  that  stuff,  Baron. 

[Picking  up  her  bills  from  the  floor] 

Come  across  first 
With  what  you  promised. 

BARON. 

Oh,  you  needn't  worry, 
Dear    Mama    Shylock.     You're    going    to 

get  your  pound 
Of  flesh, — I've  said  that  you  shall  have  her 

here 
To-night.   She  may  be  waiting  for  me  now — 

[He  looks  at  his  wrist-watch] 
Less  than  a  block  away,  ready  to  serve 
And    honor    and    obey    me. — Damn    you, 

Tiger! 

I  wonder  if  I  love  you  more  or  hate  you. 
Damn  you,  anyway! 

TIGER. 

Oh,  swear  your  head  off! 
Go  over  it  again,  make  up  your  mind 
One  way  and  then  the  other! 


106  TIGER 

[Looking  up  from  her  bills] 

Kiss  me,  kid! 

[He  kisses  her  hungrily.     She  stands  up 
and  throws  him  away  from  her] 
Now  snarl  at  me,  you  cur.     I  don't  know 

why 

I  keep  you  round;  except  to  purr  and  snarl 
Myself, — first     kiss     your     feminine     eyes 

because 
They  look  so  lost  in  the  world,  then  curse 

your  breed, 

You  most  of  all,  because  you're  so  unlike 
The  brutes  I'm  tired  of. 

[She  crosses  to  lay  bills  and  cheques  in 
her  desk] 

But  what's  the  use 
Of  bothering?     You  suit  me.     And  you're 

good 
For  the  business.     Run  along  and  bring  her 

here. 
[She  sits  at  her  desk  and  writes] 

BARON. 

Remember  now.     She's  young,  and  I'm  her 
first 


TIGER  107 

Offence.     And  I've  been  careful  with  her, 

Tiger, 

Not  touched  her  fingers  only  once  or  twice 
And    used    good    English    and    been    sym 
pathetic. 

TIGER. 

Oh,  yes,  I  know  all  that. 

BARON. 

[Taking     a     cigarette     from     Annabel's 
supply'] 

She's  different  though, 

She  hasn't  got  the  taste  for  it  beforehand 
Most  of  them  have. 

TIGER. 

[Looking  round  as  she  seals  a  letter~\ 

Then  she's  the  very  kind 
We  want,  old  boy.     The  other  kind  is  com 
mon 

And   some  of  our  customers   amuse   them 
selves, 

You  know,  by  being  fastidious.     Is  she  a 
blonde? 


io8 TIGER 

BARON. 
Brunette. 

TIGER. 

Worse  luck. 
BARON. 

No,  you  can  fix  that  up. 
Light  hair'd  go  fine  with  her  dark  eyes,  good 

change. 

She's  just  the  girl  for  it,  solemn  and  slow 
And  innocent.     Poor  kid,  I  pity  her. 

TIGER. 

You  act  like  you  were  getting  stuck  on  her; 
Perhaps  she'll  keep  you  when  you're  tired 
of  me. 

BARON. 

You've  got  me  hypnotized.   I  don't  get  tired. 

TIGER. 

[She  approaches  him,  seductively,   mock 
ingly] 
Be  true  to  me,  sweetheart! 


TIGER  109 

BARON. 

To  hell  with  you ! 

[She  lays  her  hand  insidiously  on  his  arm. 
At  once  he  seizes  and  kisses  her.  She 
leads  him  to  the  hallway  door,  and  opens 
it  as  he  kisses  her  again,  then  she  pushes 
him  out  with  both  hands  and,  closing  the 
door,  turns  back  to  Annabel,  who  at  every 
amorous  passage  between  Tiger  and  the 
Baron  has  looked  up  from  her  book  and 
watched  with  curious  but  accustomed  in- 
terest] 

ANNABEL. 

{Chewing  gum} 
Gee,  but  I  wish  I  had  a  man  like  that! 

TIGER. 

You'd  have  one,  dear,  if  you  were  business 
like. 

ANNABEL. 

[Shaking  her  head  and  marking  her  place 

in  the  book  with  a  cigarette} 
I  couldn't  hold  a  man.     They  get  so  bored 
With  me.     And,  after  all,  there  isn't  much 


no  TIGER 

To  say  to  one  man.     I'd  be  bored  myself 
To  have  to  think  of  new  things  all  the  time. 
Variety,  Tiger,  is  the  spice  of  life, 
Not  in  the  spiel  but  in  the  spielers.     Dear, 
Do  you  like  my  hair  this  way?     One  of  the 

boys 

Suggested  that  it  makes  me  look  too  old. 
I  think  I'll  put  it  back  again. 
[She  starts  to  uncoil  it] 

TIGER. 

No,  no! 

Leave  it  to  me !    You'll  be  told  quick  enough 
When  you  look  old.     Let  it  alone. 

ANNABEL. 

Well,  looks 
Ain't  everything.     I'm  getting  wise  to  the 

game. 

Say  to  a  gink,  'Your  nose  is  beautiful,' 
*Your  mouth  was  made  to  kiss,'  or  call  his 

figure 
Military. 

[She  examines  herself  critically  in  a  hand- 
mirror  which  she  takes  from  under  a  sofa- 
cushion] 


TIGER  1 1 1 

TIGER. 

There's  just  one  kind  of  figure 
That  makes  a  hit  with  me.     A  good  full 
chest ! 

ANNABEL. 

Gee,  ain't  they  handsome  when  they  have 

green — backs ! 
[They  laugh] 

I  told  a  guy  last  night  that  it  takes  dough 
To  make  a  tart.     Dear,  that's  my  own! 

TIGER. 

And  say, 

Here's  business,  Annabel,  take  it  from  me! 
You've  seen  the  belly  on  the  dollar-sign? — 
Well,  the  man  who  has  the  stomach  has  the 
figure ! 

ANNABEL. 

I've  noticed  that. 

TIGER. 

Sure  thing!     And  while  he  thinks 


ii2  TIGER 

You're  waiting  for  his  phoney  kisses — pay 
Attention  to  his  stomach  and  his  roll! 
Make  him  eat,  drink  and  spend!     My  dear, 

the  way 
To  passion's  thro*  the  stomach  every  time. 

ANNABEL. 

[Meditative] 

Champagne,  you  mean? 

TIGER. 

Eve  got  there  with  an  apple. 
But  the  apple  has  fermented  some  since  then. 

ANNABEL. 

[Laughing  with  Tiger] 
We  have  a  good  time,  don't  we! 

TIGER 

You  do,  dear. 
You've     been     here     seven     months     and, 

Annabel, 

You  never  once  in  all  that  time  have  had 
A  grouch. 


TIGER  113 

ANNABEL. 

You're  square  with  me,  Tiger,  that's 
why. 

TIGER. 

But,  on  the  level,  you  don't  like  the  life? 

ANNABEL. 

Better  than  selling  underwear  to  women 
And  paying   fines    on   four   whole   bucks    a 

week! 
Talk   as   you   please,    the   men    have   more 

respect 

For  a  girl  that's  a  good  looker  and  can  earn 
A  seat  in  a  restaurant  than  for  a  dub 
Who    stands   up    all   day   waiting   on   their 

wives. 

TIGER. 

Besides,  you  have  as  good  a  chance  as  me 
To  save  up  coin  enough  before  you're  old 
And  rent   a   house   and  get  some   girls  to 
gether — 
And  after  a  while  to  live  in  a  good  hotel 


114.  TIGER 

And  settle  down  respectable. — Perhaps 
A  friend  or  two.     But  independent. 

ANNABEL. 

Chance  I 

Yes,  I've  got  that.     But,  dear,  I  haven't  got 
The  brains  to  make  a  hit  in  any  line. 
I  know  my  limit  and  I'm  satisfied. 
I'm  better  off  than  I  ever  was  at  home, 
And  that's  enough.    The  future  can  go  hang. 
There's  more  than  one   way  to  prepare   a 

corpse. 
Ain't  I  the  cheerful  guy? 

TIGER. 

You're  lazy,  dear, 
That's  all  the  matter  with  you. 

ANNABEL. 

Who's  the  new  girl? 
TIGER. 

Oh,  I  don't  know.     The  Baron  falls  for  me. 

So  I  can  trust  his  taste. 

ANNABEL. 

Say,  does  he  fall? 
He's  jealous,  now,  of  me! 


TIGER  1 1 5 

TIGER. 

Who's  on  the  job 
Downstairs? 

ANNABEL. 

Cassie  to-night.  I'm  tired.  She  knows 
The  steps  and  laughs  a  lot,  loosens  'em  up. 
She's  popular. 

TIGER. 

And  she's  the  Baron's  work, — 
He  brought  her  here  last  winter.     Cassie 

thinks 

The  Baron  the  one  bet  and  he,  poor  kid, 
Just  keeps  her  on  because  I  tell  him  to. 
And  see  how  well  the  combination  works? — 
The  happy  family! 

ANNABEL. 

Business-like's  the  word! 

[A  knock  is  heard  at  the  hallway  door\ 

TIGER. 

Quick  there!     Be  business-like  yourself  for 

once! 
Clear  off  those  things! 


n6  TIGER 

ANNABEL. 

All  right. 

{While  Annabel  puts  bottles  and  glasses 
under  the  table  so  that  they  are  hidden  by 
the  table-cover,  Tiger  picks  up  the  gum, 
cigarettes  and  ash-tray  from  the  chair  and 
tucks  them  all  under  a  sofa-cushion.  The 
knock  is  repeated] 

ANNABEL. 

My  fancy-work, 

Where  is  it? 

TIGER. 

[Taking  a  piece  of  embroidery  from  under 
a  cushion] 

Here. 

[She  hands  it  to  Annabel  and  crosses  to 
the  easy-chair] 

ANNABEL. 

[Sitting  on  the  couch,  with  the  embroid 
ery,  as  though  she  had  been  sewing] 

Now  we're  a  boarding-house  I 


TIGER n? 

TIGER. 

Throw  me  the  book! 

[Annabel  throws  Tiger  the  novel  from 
the  couchy  Tiger  holds  it  as  though  she 
had  been  reading^ 

Come  in! 

[The  Baron  enters,  leading  by  the  hand 
Margaret,  a  simple,  romantic  girl  of 
sixteen.  She  is  in  street-clothes.  She 
looks  toward  the  two  women  bashfully, 
innocently,  as  they  rise  and  come  toward 
her'] 


BARON. 

It's  Margaret. 
This    is    Miss    Dillingham,    my    aunt,    and 

here's 
My  Cousin  Ann. 

MARGARET. 

How  do  you  do?     Gene's  told 
Me  lots  about  you.     I  suppose  you  think 
I'm  foolish  running  away  like  this? 


n8  TIGER 

TIGER. 

Why,  no ! 
You  loved  each  other,  Margaret. 

MARGARET. 

My  aunt 

Was  angry  when  he  wanted  to  call.     You 
see, 

She's  not  like  you,   Miss  Dillingham;  she's 
set 

And  so  old-fashioned.    And  she  thought  be 
cause 

Gene  works  in  a  store  he  isn't  good  enough. 

She  said  I  never  should  have  talked  with 
him 

At  all.     And  then  she  didn't  like  his  voice 

On  the  telephone.     .     .     .     I  do,  don't  I, 
Eugene ! 

BARON. 

[His  arm  round  her~\ 
I  guess  you  do,  darling. 

MARGARET. 

You  see,  my  aunt 
Has  been  with  us  for  years  and  father  takes 


TIGER  119 

Her  word  as  law.     I  knew  what  she  would 

say 

About  Eugene  and  how  she'd  make  it  sound. 
At  first  I  thought  he'd  better  go  himself 
And  see  my  father. 

BARON. 

But  I  told  you,  dear, 
He  wouldn't  fall  for  me.     And  give  you 

up? 
I  couldn't,  could  I  f 

MARGARET. 

No.     And  so  I  thought 
And  thought — and  prayed.     And  finally  I 
came. 

TIGER. 

And  aren't  you  tired  out?    Let  Annabel 
Show  you  your  room.     You  ought  to  rest 

before 
Your  marriage,  dear. 

\_dnnabel  opens  the  bedroom  door.  Mar 
garet,  vaguely  troubled,  does  not  follow 
her} 


120  TIGER 

MARGARET. 


We  must  be  married  now. 


BARON. 

To-morrow. 


MARGARET. 

Oh,  I  thought  to-night. 

BARON. 

But  first 

I  have  to  get  a  license  and  attend 
To  things  like  that.     And  I  can  leave  you 

here 
With  Tige— Miss  Dillingham.     She'll  take 

good  care 
Of  you. 

MARGARET. 

[Doubtfully] 

I'll  do,  Gene,  as  you  say. 

ANNABEL. 

Your  room 
Is  ready  for  you. 


TIGER  121 

MARGARET. 

[Crossing  to  the  Baron} 

If  I'd  only  waited 
And  told  my  father!     He  might  not  have 

felt 

As  Aunt  Louisa  felt.     It  seems  so  mean 
Of  me  to  run  away  from  him.     But  I  left 
A  little  message  on  his  dressing-case 
Saying   that    he   would   hear    from   me    to 
morrow. 

TIGER. 

You  didn't  write  him  anything  about 
Eugene? — or  where  you 


MARGARET. 

We  thought  best  to  wait, 
Not  to  say  anything  till  we  could  go 
Together,  to  him,  married,  hand  in  hand, 
And  make  him  like  us  both. 


TIGER. 

When  will  he  find 

The  note? 


122  TIGER 

MARGARET. 

To-night.      Or — let   me    see, — 
what  day — ? 

Why,  it's  Friday!     Then  he  won't  be  home 

till  Monday. 

I  hadn't  thought  of  that.     He  always  goes 
To  the  country  somewhere  Sunday  with  his 

friends. 

Poor  Aunt  Louisa  will  be  scared  to  death 
When  I'm  not  back  for  dinner. 

ANNABEL. 

But  the  note. 
She'll  find  it. 

BARON. 

Sure,  and  send  your  father  word. 

MARGARET. 

She  won't  know  where  to  reach  him. 

ANNABEL. 

Then  I'll  go 
And   'phone   your   auntie  that   you're    safe 

with  me, — 
One  of  your  friends.    WTho  shall  I  say  I  am? 


TIGER 123 

MARGARET. 

Oh  no,  that  would  be  worse. 

TIGER. 

That  would  be  lying. 
You  must  be  tired,  Margaret. 

MARGARET. 

Yes,  I  am. 

[With  a  smile'] 
You  see,  I  never  ran  away  before. 

ANNABEL. 

Didn't  you  bring ? 

MARGARET. 

I  didn't  dare.     I  just 
Went  out  and  walked  like  some  one  in  a 

dream 

And  took  the  train.     My  heart  was  beat 
ing  so, 

I    thought   that    people    would    look    round 
at  me. 

TIGER. 

And  did  they? 


124  TIGER 

MARGARET. 

No. 

TIGER. 

That's  right!    Come, 
Annabel, 

She's   talked   enough   for  now.      Lend  her 

something 
To  wear  to-night. 


ANNABEL. 

Sure  will  I. 

[As  she  goes  up  toward  the  hallway  door, 
a  knock  is  heard] 

Who's  there? 

[She   opens   the   door  slightly   and  takes 
from  some  one  a  cup  of  tea] 

Thanks. 

TIGER. 

{Crossing     and     taking     the     cup    from 
Annabel] 
Oh,  yes,  we've  made  some  nice,  hot  tea. 

[Exit  Annabel] 


TIGER  125 

MARGARET. 

For  me? 

No,  thanks. 

TIGER. 

Take  it  this  once,  it'll  do  you  good. 
MARGARET. 

[Tasting  it] 
Isn't  it  very  strong? 

TIGER. 

There's  medicine 

MARGARET. 

I  don't  need  medicine. 

TIGER. 

It's  very  little. 

Only   to   rest  your   nerves   and   make    you 
sleep. 

MARGARET. 

[_To  the  Baron'] 
I'll  take  it  if  you  ask  me. 

BARON. 

Take  it,  dear. 
That's  right.     All  down  I 


126  TIGER 

MARGARET. 

It  burns. 

BARON. 

One 

swallow  more ! 
[Annabel  returns  with  a  night-dress} 

TIGER. 

Leave   her    to    Ann    and   me    now    till   the 
morning. 

BARON. 

There.     Thank  you,  sweetheart. 

[He  takes  the  empty  cup  from  her  and 
hands  it  to  Tiger,  who  lays  it  down} 

Good-night, 
Margaret. 
[He  holds  her  hand  in  both  his~\ 

MARGARET. 

Good-night,  Eugene. 

[She  shyly  lifts  her  face  to  him.  He  kisses 
her-] 


TIGER 127 

BARON. 

To-morrow,  darling! 

MARGARET. 

Yes. 

[Margaret  goes  into  the  bedroom.  Anna 
bel,  with  a  wink  to  the  others,  follows 
her,  closing  the  door.  The  Baron  turns 
from  Margaret  and  looks  at  Tiger,  who 
stands  facing  him  with  her  arms  down. 
She  smiles  and  nods.  He  crosses  to  her, 
puts  his  arms  round  her,  holds  her  now 
with  assurance  and  kisses  her.  She  re 
sponds  by  kissing  his  eyes. 

The  stage  now  darkens  to  indicate  the 
lapse  of  time  from  Friday  night  to  Sunday 
night.  When  it  grows  light  again,  a  small 
table  is  beside  the  couch,  with  a  chair  or 
two  round  it,  and  with  cards  on  it 
and  poker-chips.  The  Baron  sits  on 
the  couch  idly  throwing  poker-dice.  An 
nabel,  who  has  been  as  idly  watching 
him,  crosses  to  the  closed  door  of  the  bed 
room  and  leans  with  her  ear  to  the  crack 
of  it} 


128  TIGER 

ANNABEL. 

[Moving  away  again  from  the  Jo  or] 
That   little    girl's    more    bother   than   she's 
worth. 

BARON. 

[Still  throwing  the  dice} 
The  stuff  you  gave  her  in  that  tea  started 
The  devil  in  her.     Every  finger-nail 
In  action !  Tiger  bawled  me  out  for  quitting. 
Poor  little  girl!     I  wish  she  wasn't  caught. 
Damn  it,  I  was  a  dog! 

ANNABEL. 

Well,  you  lap  the  hand 
That  feeds  you ! 

BARON. 

[Putting  down  the  dice'} 

Shut  up  now!     I  can  know  myself 
And  kick  myself.     But  I  won't  let  you  do  it  I 

ANNABEL. 

Oh,  well,  who  wants  to  kick  a  rotten  egg? 


TIGER  129 

BARON. 

[He  jumps  up  and,  catching  her  by  the 
wrist,  twists  it~] 
I'll  teach  you 

ANNABEL. 

[Catching  him   in   the  stomach  with  her 
knee} 

Will  you? 

[Tiger  enters  from  the  hallway} 

TIGER. 

Stop  making  love, 
you  two ! 

[Crossing  and  listening  at  the  door} 
How  is  she,  quiet? 

ANNABEL. 

There  hasn't  been  a  squeak 
To-day. 

BARON. 

[Back  at  his  dice~\ 

My  God,   she   couldn't   cry 
any  more  I 


130  TIGER 

[Tiger  turns  round  at  his  tone,  crosses  to 
him,  lifts  his  chin  with  her  fingers  and 
looks  into  his  eyes'} 

TIGER 

If  you  should  dare  to  let  her  out,  you  fool! 

BARON. 

Who's  going  to  let  her  out?    I  did  the  thing. 
And  I  know  why.     And  you  know  why  I 

did  it! 
TIGER. 

[Walking  away  from  him} 
I've  paid  you. 

BARON. 

[Amorous} 

Kiss  me,  Tige! 

TIGER. 

Let  me  alone  1 
[Turning  sharply} 
Good  God,  you  don't  think  I'm  in  this  for 

fun! 

I'm  in  it  for  the  future.    And  there'll  be 
No  Baron  in  my  future. 
[She  walks  away  again} 


TIGER  131 

BARON. 

[He    follows     her     and,     grasping     her 
shoulders,  turns  her  to  face  him] 

Wait  and  see! 

You'll  need  me,  Tiger,  more  than  I'll  need 
you. 

TIGER. 

[Looking  at  him  shrewdly] 
You    think    so?      Annabel,    bring   me    her 

clothes. 
I  guess  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  them  myself. 

[Exit  Annabel  into  the  hall] 

BARON. 

There's    mighty    little    you    don't    keep    an 
eye  on. 

TIGER. 

You  nearly  took  up  Cassie  for  your  girl, 
And  Cassie  bores  you,  Baron.     Some  one's 

got 
To  use  their  eyes  for  you.     You  don't  use 

yours. 


132  TIGER 

BARON. 

You're    jealous,    Tige.      Insult   me,    kid,    I 
love  it! 

TIGER. 

It's  business,  Baron.     Jealousy's  a  joke. 
You  know  me  well  enough  to  quit  your  bluff 
And  quit  me  too,  or  else  to  give  this  girl 
The  go-by.     It's  plain  business.     Do  you  get 
me? 

ANNABEL. 

[Returning  with  Margaret's   clothes   and 
hat] 
Where  shall  I  put  them,  Tiger? 

TIGER. 

Leave  them  there 
For  now.    And  put  that  over  them. 

[She  indicates  her  own  cloak.     Annabel 
lays  them  on  the  couch'} 

BARON. 

[Cowed] 

You're  dippy. 
I  wouldn't  do  a  thing  you  didn't  want. 


TIGER  133 

TIGER. 

[Crossing  toward  the  bedroom] 
What  time  is  it?     I  guess  I'll  try  again. 

BARON. 

She  hasn't  had  a  bite  of  food — since  when? 

ANNABEL. 

Not  since  she  came. 

BARON. 

Lord,  Tiger,  give  her  something  1 

TIGER. 

This  is  my  business  now.    You've  done  your 

part. 
Get  out  of  here ! 

BARON. 

You  bet! 

TIGER. 

Come  back  on  Tuesday. 
These  little  cooings  will  be  over  then. 


134  TIGER 

BARON. 

They're  over  now.     I  love  you,  Tige,  you 

devil! 
[He  kisses  her  passionately] 

TIGER. 


Good-night. 

[Exit  the  Baron] 

ANNABEL. 

You  sure  have  got  him  going,  Tiger. 

TIGER. 

I'm  sick  of  him!     But  I  can't  throw  him 

down. 

The  fool  might  shoot  me  or  else  go  and  blab. 
He's  the  only  one  I've  cared  for  in  ten  years; 
And  I  knew,  the  night  I  met  him,  that  I  ought 
To  look  away  and  leave  him  be.  It  comes 
Of  letting  sentiment  into  your  business. 

ANNABEL. 

I  wonder  if  I'll  ever  fall  in  love. 


TIGER  135 

TIGER. 

The  only  other  man  I  ever  loved 
Married  me,  and  he  used  me  like  a  dog. 
The  time  I  wasted  moping  for  that  boy 
Would   have   set  me  up   by  now   in  Easy 

Street. 

I  hung  on  fourteen  months.  He  didn't  hand 
Me  coin  enough  for  food — there  were  other 

girls 
More    business-like     who    hadn't    married 

him — 
Then  he  cussed  me  when  I  couldn't  buy  his 

friends 
Big  eats  at  home.     One  of  them  helped  me 

out 
The  last  two  months.     He  liked  me.     And 

I  ran 

Away  with  him.  I  learned  a  lot  from  him. 
A  man's  an  easy  mark  unless  you  love  him. 
I  love  that  first  one  yet. 

[Crossing  to  the  bedroom  door  and  signi 
fying  Margaret  with  her  head] 

She  loves  the  Baron. 

[Speaking  through  the  door] 


136 TIGER 

Margaret? — When  you  choose  you  can  have 

food. 
Just  say  the  word  and  you'll  have  it — not 

before. 
You    know    what    good   your    screams    did 

yesterday! — 

And  you  can  cry  till  doomsday  if  you  want, 
Nobody'll  hear.  Your  father'll  never  come. 
And  you  won't  kill  yourself.  I  didn't,  dear. 
Just  say  the  word,  I'll  send  you  in  Eugene — 
Or  some  one  else — and  food! 

ANNABEL. 

[Improving  her  make-up.    Pallor  and  red 
lips  are  effective  with  her  black  hair} 

She  may  be  dead. 
TIGER. 

Dead  nothing!     I  can  hear  her  through  the 

door. 
She'll  come  to  terms.     Hunger  and  time  are 

good 
Persuaders.      And   she   knows    the    Baron's 

waiting. 

He'll  teach  her  first.      Then  nothing  mat 
ters  much. 


TIGER  137 

Ten  or  twelve  hours  more  and  she'll  begin. 
She'll  not  be  too  unhappy,  you  know  that, — 
Probably  happier  than  she  would  have  been 
With  a  cold  husband  and  an  empty  life 
Selected  for  her  by  her  Aunt  Louisa. 

[There's   a   knock   at   the   hallway   door. 

Annabel  goes  to  it\ 

TIGER. 
Who  is  it? 

ANNABEL. 

Willie's  here. 
TIGER. 

Well,  let  him  in. 
ANNABEL. 

You  think ? 

TIGER. 

It's  safe  enough.     He's  an  old  friend. 
He  knows  the  game  and  plays  it  like  a  good 

one. 

In  fact  it's  sports  like  Willie  have  to  have 
The  dainty  morsels. 

[She  moves  Annabel  out  of  the  way  and 
opens  the  door  herself] 


138  TIGER 

Come  in.     How  are  things? 
[Enter  Willie,   a  patron,   of  later   middle- 
age,  a  stout,  prosperous-looking,  pleasant 
gentleman] 


WILLIE. 

I'm  fine — but  hungry,  Tiger.     Cassie  said 

She'd  send  my  supper  here.     I've  been  out 
doors 

All    day    at    Ardsley — golf — played    well 
to-day. 

And  by  the  way,  we  asked  a  girl  out  there 

— A  decent  girl,  you  know — to  join  a  four 
some; 

And  what    do   you   suppose   she   said,    not 
meaning  it 

At  all,  referring  as  she  thought  to  one 

Of  the  sticks?    'I  never  play,'  she  said,  'don't 
know 

A  thing  about  it,  shouldn't  even  know 

Which  end  of  the  caddy  to  use.' 
[They  all  laugh] 

Good,  isn't  it! 

Wonderful  figure  when  she  tried  a  stroke, 


TIGER  139 

And  a   lovely   face,   no    paint,    fresh    lips, 

young,  young! 
You  ought  to  have  that  kind  of  girl.     I'm 

tired 

Of  all  your  girls !     I  come  here  still  because 
I  like  you,  Tiger. 
[Looking  round] 

I'm  tired  of  Annabel. 

ANNABEL. 

[With  a  deep  bow] 
Oh,  thank  you,  Willie. 

WILLIE. 

— Cassie,  all  of  them, 

The  same  old  faces.    Haven't  you  something 
new? 

TIGER. 

I'm  tired,  Willie,  of  that  same  old  question. 
[A  sudden  sobbing  is  heard  in  the  inner 
bedroom] 

WILLIE. 
Listen  1 

[//  dies  away  into  a  moan] 
What  was  that,  Tiger? 


140  TIGER 

TIGER. 

[Crossing  and  whispering  in  his  ear  with 
a  smile] 

'Something  new!' 

WILLIE. 

What  do  you  mean?    A  new  one?     In  that 
room? 

TIGER. 

Come  here  now,   dearie ! — On  your  honor, 

sir, 
As    a    friend    and    gentleman — repeat    it, 

please! 

WILLIE. 

Well,  Tiger,  on  my  honor 

TIGER. 

If  I  put 

You  wise  to  a  professional  master-stroke, 
You  will  not  preach  nor  peach? 

WILLIE. 

I  swear. 

TIGER. 

Willie, 
The  'something  new'  was  brought  here 


TIGER  141 

WILLIE. 

Never  mind 
The  story;  is  she  young? 

TIGER. 

Young  as  they  come, 

And  new  to  it, — in  fact  rebellious,  dear, 
And  fasting  for  her  pains. 

WILLIE. 

I'll  break  her  in! 

TIGER. 

The  Baron's  a  much  better  hand  at  it. 

WILLIE. 

Oh,  come !     It's  an  adventure ! — let  me  try ! 
She'll  trust  me,  Tige,  I  look  so  fatherly. 

TIGER. 

No,  no, — some  other  time.    There's  nothing 
in  it. 

WILLIE. 

But,  darling,  an  experience  and  different! 
Girls  like  me,  Tiger.     Come  on,  let  me  try! 
I'll  make  it  worth  your  while. 


142  TIGER 

TIGER. 

Well,  you  may  have 

Your  supper  with  her,  if  you  want  to  pay 
Big  money. 

WILLIE. 

Sure.    I'm  rich  to-night.    I  won 
A  case  last  week.     And  I  am  going  to  win 
Another  case  to-night, — you  know,  a  case 
Of  love  at  first  sight.    That's  how  I  feel ! 

TIGER. 

Go  in. 

And  don't  believe  the  fiction  that  you'll  hear. 
She's  peevish   now,   that's   all.     You  know 

these  girls 

And  their  romances  and  their  grievances. 
Help  her  forget  them,  Willie. 

[She  takes  a  key  out  of  her  pocket  and 
puts  it  in  the  lock  of  the  bedroom  door) 
then  turns  before  she  opens  the  door] 

Pommery? 
WILLIE. 

[Nodding] 
And  a  tasty  little  supper  for  your  Willie ! 


TIGER  143 

TIGER. 

[Unlocking  the  door] 
Remember  now,  you're  not  to  preach 

WILLIE. 

Nor  peach. 
TIGER. 
Promise  I 

WILLIE. 

I  promise.  Wish  me  good  luck,  Tiger! 
[She  opens  the  door  for  him;  he  enters 
the  bedroom.  There  is  a  pause,  then,  in 
side  the  bedroom,  a  scream  of  mingled 
terror  and  joy  from  the  girl,  and  a  moan 
from  the  man'] 

MARGARET. 

[Her  voice  is  heard,  heartrending'] 
Father!       Father,     I    knew    you'd    come! 
Father! 

WILLIE. 

[Reappearing    and    facing    the    women, 
livid'] 

Give  me  her  clothes!     Damn  you,  give  me 
her  clothes! 


144  TIGER 

[Tiger  stands  motionless,  petrified.  Anna- 
bel  crosses  as  in  a  nightmare  and  picks  up 
Margaret's  clothes  from  the  couch.  As 
she  pulls  them  across  the  table,  the  poker- 
chips  are  dragged  to  the  floor.  Annabel 
turns  at  the  sound  and  looks  down  at  the 
poker-chips,  dazed.  Willie  re-enters  the 
bedroom.  Annabel  suddenly  drops  the 
clothes  on  the  floor  and  runs  out  into  the 
hall.  Tiger  stands  motionless'] 


CURTAIN 


CYCLE 


To  Kablil  Gibran 


[The  scene  is  a  thickly  furnished  library 
in  the  home  of  a  Prussian  officer.  Books 
are  all  about  in  ornate  cases.  There  is  a 
double  door  at  the  back,  a  fire-place  at  the 
left  and}  over  a  book-case  at  the  right,  a 
long  narrow  stained-glass  window  de 
signed  about  a  coat-of-arms.  Friedrich 
the  officer,  leaning  over  a  desk  at  the  left, 
is  indicating  to  his  wife,  Rosa,  certain 
points  in  a  map  of  Asia  Minor] 

ELISABETH. 

[A  girl  of  fifteen,  entering] 
Please,  father,  may  I  show  my  friends  the 

snap-shots? — 
The  ones  you  took? 

FRIEDRICH. 

[Handing  them  to  her  from  a  desk- 
drawer] 

Yes,  Elsa,  certainly. 
[She  runs  happily  out  with  the  photo 
graphs] 

147 


148  CYCLE 

ROSA. 

Why  did  you  laugh  at  what  I  asked  you, 

Friedrich? 
Because  it  was  untrue? — ridiculous? 

FRIEDRICH. 

Why  do  you  listen  to  a  servant,  Rosa? 

ROSA. 

It  was  untrue? 

FRIEDRICH. 

Where  is  the  girl? 

ROSA. 

She's  gone. 

FRIEDRICH. 

So,  after  listening  to  a  servant's  gossip, 
You've  joined  the  enemy,  have  you? 

ROSA. 

Friedrich,  no! 

FRIEDRICH. 

When  I  come  home  from  war,  home  to  my 

wife, 
You  accuse  me — 


CYCLE  149 

ROSA. 

No.    I  only  asked. 

FRIEDRICH. 

Don't  ask. 

Do  you  teach  our  little  girl,  Elisabeth, 
To  ask  such  questions? 

ROSA. 

No. 

FRIEDRICH. 

Teach  her  good  sense. 

Teach  her  to  keep  her  servants  in  their  place. 
Who  was  this  servant?     How  should  she 

have  news 
Of  what  went  on  in  Syria? 

ROSA, 

Through  her  husband. 

FRIEDRICH. 
A  soldier? 


150  CYCLE 

ROSA. 

Yes.     An  orderly. 

FRIEDRICH. 

The  name! 

ROSA. 

I  don't  remember. 

FRIEDRICH. 

Your  own  servant's  name? 

ROSA. 

She  left  so  soon. 

FRIEDRICH. 

[Laughing] 

She  said  we  fattened  them, 
We  fattened  them  before  we  tasted  them, 
Plump    Syrian    pheasants    for    an    officer's 

table — 
And  my  wife  believed  her ! 

ROSA. 

No,  I  only  asked. 


CYCLE  151 

FRIEDRICH. 

[Reasonably] 
The  Turks,  of  course,  were  on  their  own 

behavior. 
It  seems  that  in  hot  countries  men  must 

change 

Their  ladies,  like  their  linen,  frequently. 
Perhaps,     if    we'd    remained    there     long 

enough, 
Even  the  rest  of  us — 

ROSA. 

She  said  the  Turks — 
The  Turkish  officers — would  seldom  join, 
But  the  northerners — 

FRIEDRICH. 

[Interrupting  sternly] 

We  do  our  duty,  Rosa. 
They  wanted  the  world  for  themselves  and 

they  had  to  be  shown, 
French,  English,  Russians — 

ROSA. 

But  not  Syrians ! 


152  CYCLE 

FRIEDRICH. 

Yes. 

They'd  be  our  enemies  too,  if  they  were  free. 
They  have  to  be  shown,  as  the  others  had  to 

be  shown, 
That  the  sooner  we  enjoy  our  place  in  the 

sun, 

The  better  for  them  all.     We  frighten  them. 
It  isn't  pleasant  work.     It's  part  of  war. 

ROSA. 

This  wretched  war ! 

FRIEDRICH. 

This  necessary  war. 
God  willed  it. 

ROSA. 

Not  the  God  I  pray  to. 

FRIEDRICH. 

Christ? 
Did  you  decide  this  with  your  servant  too? 

ROSA. 

Are  you  deciding  it,  Friedrich,  for  a  servant? 


CYCLE  153 

FRIEDRICH. 

Did  she  particularize? 
[Sarcastic] 

You  should  have  asked 
The  name  and  date  and  place. 

ROSA. 

In  Lebanon, 
Ten  months  ago,  she  said. 

FRIEDRICH. 

The  filthy  liar! 

ELISABETH. 

[Running  in  again,  with  the  photographs] 
They  loved  the  camels  and  the  funny  houses. 
And  look  at  this  one. 

FRIEDRICH. 

[Taking  it] 

What?    I  didn't  mean — 
Was  that  among  them? 

ELISABETH. 

All  those  little  girls — 
Was  it  a  school? 


154  CYCLE 

FRIEDRICH. 

Perhaps. 

ELISABETH. 

And  look  at  her. 
How  old  was  this  girl? 

FRIEDRICH. 

I  don't  know.    Fifteen. 

ELISABETH. 

She  looks  like  Cousin  Gretel. 

ROSA. 

[  Taking  it  from  her  husband'] 

Let  me  see. 

ELISABETH. 

What  were  they  doing  all  alone  like  that, 
If   it's   not   a   school.     And,    father,    look, 

please  tell  me, 
Why  were  their  heads  hung  down?     What 

made  them  turn 
Their  faces?     Look  at  that  one ! 

ROSA. 

[In  a  low  tone'] 

They  were  afraid. 


CYCLE  155 

FRIEDRICH. 

It  was  the  sun.     Here,  let  me  have  it,  Rosa. 

[Taking  it  and  crushing  it  in  his  hand~\ 
It's  not  worth  keeping. 

ELISABETH. 

Father,  please,  I  want  it ! 
The  girl  like  Gretel — the  pretty  one ! 

FRIEDRICH. 

It's  torn. 
I'm  sorry. 

ELISABETH. 

Perhaps  she  isn't  torn.    Please  look. 
I  want  it,  father! 

FRIEDRICH. 

Where  are  your  manners  gone? 
Your  mother's  spoiled  you  while  I've  been 
away. 

ELISABETH. 
I  want  it. 


156  CYCLE 

FRIEDRICH. 

Answer  me,  Elisabeth. 
Are  you  a  Prussian,  dear? — or  something 
else? 

ELISABETH. 

I'm  Prussian,  father. 

FRIEDRICH. 

Be  a  Prussian,  then. 

Obedience,  dear,  and  self-control,  it's  these 
On  which  the  state  depends.     And  we  look 

to  you, 

You  future  citizens,  to  prove  our  faith 
And  pride  and  justify  our  victory. 
How  can  you  be  a  Prussian  and  not  rule 
Yourself? 

ELISABETH. 

I'm  sorry,  father.     I'll  be  good. 

ROSA. 

And  do  we  always  practise  what  we  preach? 

FRIEDRICH. 

I'm  going  out  for  half  an  hour. 


CYCLE  157 

ELISABETH. 

Take  me? 

FRIEDRICH. 
Another  time. 

ELISABETH. 

May  I  come  to  the  door  with  you? 

FRIEDRICH. 

[Throwing  the  crumpled  photograph  into 
the  fireplace] 

Of  course. 

[When  they  have  gone,  Rosa  uncreases 
the  picture  and  looks  at  it — and  then  away 
from  it,  her  fingers  closing  on  the  frag 
ments'] 

ELISABETH. 

[Calling  gaily  from  outside] 
Mother!     O  mother,  quick! 

ROSA. 

[Tearing  the  picture  into  smaller  bits] 

What  is  it,  dear? 
[Appearing] 


158  CYCLE 

ELISABETH. 

They  were  sending  him   away!     Can't  he 

come  in? 
[Whispering] 
A  funny  foreigner  with  things  to  sell. 

ROSA. 

We  don't  need  anything. 

ELISABETH. 

Mother,  we  might! 
ROSA. 

It's  war-time. 

ELISABETH. 

O  let  him  show  them  to  us — for  my  birthday ! 
You  said  you'd  buy  me  something  for  my 

birthday. 
We  might  find  just  the  thing! 

ROSA. 

[Smiling f  yielding] 

Well,— if  you  like. 

ELISABETH. 

[Turning,  while  her  mother  throws  the 
tiny  fragments  back  into  the  fireplace] 


CYCLE  159 

Come  in.     Yes,  mother  says  you  may.     In 

here. 

[A  little  bearded  Foreigner  enters,  dark 
and  bent.  His  right  arm  is  gone.  Under 
his  left  he  is  carrying  a  red  box,  tied  with 
rope] 

ROSA. 

[Apologetically] 
We  may  not  buy  from  you. 

THE  FOREIGNER. 

[In  a  low  quaver,  like  that  of  an  old 
priest] 

You  need  not  buy. 
ROSA. 

Our  money  goes   for  war-work  now,  you 
know. 

THE  FOREIGNER. 

Beautiful  things  are  what  I  love — not  money. 
And  if  you  do  not  take  them,  I  still  have 
them. 

ROSA. 

[As  he  unties  the  box] 
From  Turkey? 


160  CYCLE 

THE  FOREIGNER. 

[Indicating  his  lost  arm] 
From  the  war. 

ROSA. 

Poor  man,  I  see. 

THE  FOREIGNER. 

If  they'd  not  taken  my  heart,  I'd  have  it  still. 

[Beating  his  breast  dully'] 
Isn't  it  strange,  lady? — I  have  no  heart! 

ROSA. 

It's  taken  all  our  hearts  and  broken  them, 
This  war. 

THE  FOREIGNER. 

They  call  it  war. 

ELISABETH. 

[As  the  box  opens'] 

O  mother,  see! 
Beautiful  things! 

[She  takes  some  of  them  out  carefully] 


CYCLE  161 

THE  FOREIGNER. 

[In  a  broken  half-mad  wail] 

All  of  them  dead ! — dead ! 

ROSA. 

Don't,  please.     You  frighten  her. 

THE  FOREIGNER. 

[Turning  toward  the  door,  with  soft 
cunning] 

IVe  something  here — 
Something  to  show  her. 

[While  they  examine  his  laces,  he  looks 
outside,  then  comes  in  and  deftly  locks  the 
door,  without  their  noticing] 

THE  FOREIGNER. 

Something  here  to  show  her. 
[He  lifts  out  all  the  laces  in  a  heap  and 
holds  up  to  them  a  long  dark  lock  of 
hair] 

ROSA. 

[With  an  uneasy  laugh] 
O  no,  no !     Not  for  us. 


i 62  CYCLE 

THE  FOREIGNER. 

[Waiting  again} 

Yes !     Yes !     For  you ! 
This  loveliest -thing!     This  thing  that  was 

alive ! 

[To  Elisabeth} 
Look  at  it !     Touch  it ! 

ELISABETH. 
[Startled] 

No! 

ROSA. 

Please — not  to  her! 

Tell  me.     I'm  older.     I  will  understand. 
Go,  Elsa,  quick! 

THE  FOREIGNER. 

Why  go?     Are  you  so  young? 
[Holding  up  the  lock  of  hair] 
She  was  as  young! 

ELISABETH. 

[Clinging  to  Rosa] 

O  mother,  I'm  afraid! 


CYCLE  163 

THE  FOREIGNER. 

She  was  afraid.     They  tore  her  from  her 

mother, 
They  tore  her  hands  away,  they  whipped  her 

hands. 
They  gashed  her  mother's  forehead  with  a 

gun. 
They  cut  her  father's  arm  off,  stabbed  him 

down. 
They  dragged  her  with  the  rest  and  watched 

her,  watched  her. 
Lest  she  bite  open  a  vein  in  her  wrist  and 

die. 
As  another  girl  had  done.     They  watched 

her,  watched  her. 
They  fed  her  milk  and  wine  and  made  her 

eat. 
And  then  they  came  and  tied  her  arms,  they 

tied  her. 
And  gave  her  to  the  man  who  had  chosen 

her  ... 

Two  nights  he  had  her;  then  they  handed  her 
To  other  men  like  him,  then  common  men — 
And  men  and  men,  till  she  was  sick  and  done 
And  hideous  and  mad.  And  then  they  threw 

her. 


164  CYCLE 

My  daughter's  murdered  body,  still  alive, 
Into  a  well,  into  a  deep  cold  well. 
"Nobody'll  drink  from  there  for  a  good 

long  while, 
Nobody'll   drink    from   there    for    a    good 

long  while" — 
That's  what  they  said  and  left  her,  and  she 

died 
And,  ever  since,  I  have  tried  to  come  to  you, 

[Slowly  approaching  them\ 
To  come  to  you,  to  come  and  tell  you  this. 
What  do  you  think  now  of  the  man  you  love  ? 
What  do  you  think  of  him? 

ROSA. 

Merciful  God! 
THE  FOREIGNER. 

I  am  a  Syrian,  come  from  Lebanon — 

From  all  those  Syrian  homes ! 

ROSA. 

But  not  our  fault! 

For  God's  sake,  don't!     I'll  give  you  any 
thing! 

[Elisabeth  beats  at  the  door  and  screams 
wildly  ] 


CYCLE  165 

THE  FOREIGNER. 
[Shouting] 

What  do  I  want  but  this  ?  Nothing  but  this ! 
[Throwing  his  revolver  down  and  seizing 
Elisabeth] 

Then  I  can  die. 

[He  starts  back,  hearing  heavy  blows  on 
the  outside  of  the  door.  With  the  force 
of  its  breaking  open,  Elisabeth  falls  to 
the  floor.  Friedrich,  entering,  instantly 
thrusts  his  sword  through  the  foreigner. 
Pausing  only  a  second,  Rosa,  who  has 
picked  up  the  foreigner's  revolver,  shoots 
her  husband] 

ROSA. 

[Facing  her  daughter  in  terror  and  pity 
and  hope] 

Elisabeth ! 

ELISABETH. 

[Slowly,  with  wide  eyes] 

Yes,  mother. 

CURTAIN 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 


To  Isadora  Duncan 

You  exclaimed  one  day,  "If  only  there  nvere  a  simple 
English  text  of  Iphigenia  as  human  as  the  Greek,  no 
rhymes,  no  inversions,  no  loss  of  meaning  in  the  sound! 
And  <when  I  'wrote  you  this,  you  liked  and  used  it. 
Therefore  the  blame  or  praise  be  partly  yours. 


On  the  seashore  stands  a  great  Temple,  with  steps 
leading  to  a  blood-stained  altar.  Iphigenia,  the  Priest 
ess,  comes  out  of  the  Temple. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Pelops,  the  son  of  Tantalus,  by  speed 

Of  chariot  earned  a  bride,  who  bore  him  Atreus. 

And  Atreus  had  two  sons,  one  Menelaus, 

The  other  Agamemnon,  who  in  turn 

By  Clytemnestra  had  a  child,  and  I 

Am  she,  Iphigenia. 

It  is  thought 

That  I  was  sacrificed  by  my  own  father 
To  Artemis,  in  the  great  quest  of  Helen, 
Upon  an  altar  near  the  bay  of  Aulis, 
There  where  the  long  deep  waves  are  caught  and 

broken 

Hither  and  thither  by  the  winds.     That  bay 
Held  Agamemnon's  fleet,  the  thousand  ships 
From  Hellas,  waiting  to  avenge  on  Troy 
The  wrong  done  Menelaus  by  the  loss 
Of  Helen.     But  a  storm  came  up  and  still 
169 


170  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Another  storm,  and  neither  sea  nor  wind 
Would  favor  Agamemnon.     So  he  asked 
Calchas  the  soothsayer  to  consult  the  flame. 
And  this  is  what  was  answered :     "  Agamemnon, 
Captain  of  Hellas,  there  can  be  no  way 
Of  setting  free  thy  ships  till  Artemis 
•Has  had  fulfilled  Her  promised  sacrifice. 
For  thou  hadst  vowed  to  sacrifice  each  year 
The  fairest  thing  the  year  produced.     And  due 
To  Her  long  since  was  one  whom  Clytemnestra 
Bore  thee,  the  fairest  of  the  year,  thy  daughter 
Iphigenia     .     .     .     Let  her  be  brought  and  killed." 

They  sent  Odysseus  with  his  lying  tongue 
To  lure  me  from  my  mother,  on  the  plea 
That  I  should  wed  Achilles.     When  I  came 
To  Aulis,  they  laid  hold  of  me  and  led 
Me  to  the  flame,  and  would  have  struck  —  I  saw 
The  knife!     But  Artemis  deceived  their  eyes, 
Leaving  a  deer  instead,  and  stole  me  through 
The  radiant  blue  until  She  set  me  down 
Here  in  the  town  of  Tauris,  where  there  live 
Barbaric  men  ruled  by  their  uncouth  King, 
Thoas,  a  rider  reckless  as  the  wind. 
He  made  of  me  a  priestess  in  Her  Temple, 
And  here  I  serve  Her  on  Her  festal  days. 
It  has  a  holy  sound,  that  word,  but  far 
From  holy  are  the  rites  I     ...     Yet  I  dare 
Not  question.     Dumbly  I  must  sacrifice 
To  Her  delight  strangers  who  happen  here. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  1 7 1 

It  was  their  custom  long  before  I  came. 
My  hands  ordain  the  victim.     Other  hands, 
Inside  the  Inner  Temple,  drain  his  blood, 
Which  then  is  poured  upon  this  altar-stone. 

(She  comes  down  the  steps) 

I  dreamed  last  night  a  deathly  dream.     Perhaps 
The  morning  will  dispel  it  if  I  speak  it. 
I  dreamed  myself  at  home  again  in  Argos, 
Asleep  among  my  maidens  —  when  a  roll 
Of  thunder  shook  the  ground.     I  ran  outside. 
I  watched  the  house.     I  saw  the  coping  fall. 
Then  the  whole  palace  plunged  from  roof  to  base. 
Only  one  column  stood  untouched,  of  all 
My  father's  home.     And  that  one  stood  alive, 
A  man  with  bright  brown  hair  and  breathing  lips. 
Then  I  began  unwillingly  to  touch 
His    brow    with    the    water    that    means    woe    to 

strangers  — 
And  with  the  tears  of  my  interpretation. 

Must  it  not  mean  Orestes?  —  Dead,  dead! 
It  was  my  brother  whom  I  touched  with  tears. 
The  pillar  of  a  family  is  the  son, 
And  in  those  waters  is  the  sign  of  death. 
/     Let  me  then  pour  the  funeral-cup,  for  him 
Who  is  too  far  away  for  nearer  rites. 

(She  goes  up  the  steps  again) 


172  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Come  now,  my  maidens,  my  Hellenic  maidens, 

0  captives  of  the  king !  —  Enslaved  to  serve 
The  living,  let  us  freely  serve  the  dead. 

I  must  go  in  and  pray,  then  call  to  them 
By  the  great  summons  of  the  Temple-bell. 

(She  goes  into  the  Temple) 

ORESTES. 

(Cautiously  following  Pylades  toward  the   Tem 
ple) 

Take  care  lest  someone  should  be  coming  by! 

PYLADES. 

1  looked  both  ways  and  there  is  no  one  coming. 

ORESTES. 

Is  this  the  Shrine  of  Artemis,  which  we 

Set  out  from  Argos  over  many  seas 

To  find?     O  Pylades!  —  is  this  the  Shrine? 

PYLADES. 

I  think  it  is,  Orestes.     So  dost  thou. 

ORESTES. 

Is  that  the  stone,  dark  with  the  blood  of  Greeks? 

PYLADES. 

If  ever  I  saw  blood  —  look,  on  the  edge! 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  173  < 

ORESTES. 

And  there  beneath  the  roof,  spoils  of  the  dead! 

PYLADES. 

Trophies  of  strangers  whom  these  men  have  mur 
dered. 

ORESTES. 

Be  careful  how  thou  goest  then  —  be  watchful! 

Why  has  Thy  oracle,  O  Phoebus,  sent 

This  thing  upon  me  and  the  sight  of  blood 

Again?     Have  I  not  seen  enough  of  blood? 

My  mother  shed  my  father's  blood,  I  hers. 

And  then  the  Furies,  with  their  eyes  bloody, 

Hunted  me  down,  a  wanderer  through  the  world  — 

Till  fugitive  I  went  to  Thee,  to  pray 

An  end  of  all  the  cycles  of  despair 

That  sped  me,  maddened  me,  hurled  me  through 

Hellas. 

Thy  answer  came:     "  Go  seek  the  Taurian  land 
Where  Artemis  my  Sister  has  Her  Shrine. 
Discover  there  Her  effigy  that  fell 
From  Heaven  into  the  Temple.     Then  by  skill 
Or  by  good-fortune  take  it  and  proceed 
Surviving  every  hazard,  and  convey 
The  Image  to  the  holy  land  of  Athens." 
No  more  was  said,  except  that  by  this  deed 
I  was  to  be  relieved  of  my  afflictions    .     .     . 


174  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

And  here  I  am,  O  Phoebus,  far  from  home 
Upon  this  dismal  shore  —  obeying  Thee. 

Now,  Pylades,  companion  of  my  task,     . 

What  course  are  we  to  take?     To  scale  these  walls 

Would  be  impossible.     Are  we  to  climb 

The  open  stairs?  —  and  so  be  seen?     Are  we 

To  force  the  brazen  locks,  not  knowing  where 

They  lead?     For  if  they  come  upon  us  here, 

It  will  be  certain  death.     Shall  we  not  turn 

In  time  and  take  our  ship  ?     O,  let  me  face 

The  Furies,  rather  than  inflict  this  thing 

On  thee! 

PYLADES. 

What  do  we  know  of  flight?     How  dare 
We  take  a  course  of  which  our  hearts  know  nothing? 
Why  should  we  disobey  Apollo's  voice 
And  offer  Him  dishonor?     No!     There  must 
Be  ways.     Come,  let  us  leave  the  Temple,  hide 
Ourselves  in  some  dark  cave  and  shun  the  ship 
Lest  it  should  be  attacked  and  we  be  captured. 

Look!   through  that  opening  between  the  beams 
A  man  might  lower  himself  inside  the  wall !  — 
A  coward  drops  the  cup.     But  a  brave  man's  drink 
Is  hardship.     And  by  all  the  Gods  shall  we, 
Coming  as  far  as  this,  now  at  the  end  turn  back? 

ORESTES. 

No.     Thou  art  saying  what  I  too  should  say. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  175 

So  let  us  go  and  find  our  hiding-place. 

Phoebus  would  never  tolerate  defeat 

Of    His    commandment.     Come!     Have    we    not 

youth  ?  — 
Add  youth  to  courage,  we  can  move  the  world. 

(They  go  out) 

(The  great  bell  rings.     One  by  one  the  Temple 
Maidens  assemble) 

A  MAIDEN. 

O  ye  who  dwell  upon  these  Clashing  Rocks 

That  guard  the  Euxine  Sea, 
Keep  silence  now  before  Latona's  Daughter, 
Artemis,  Goddess  of  the  pointed  hills! 

(Turning  toward  the  Altar) 

0  Artemis,  I  come 

On  consecrated  feet  into  Thy  court, 

1  hail  Thee  beautiful 

In  Thy  gold  dome  above  the  colonnades! 

A  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

Thy  priestess  calls  me,  she  who  keeps  Thy  keys, 

Who  left  behind,  for  Thee, 
Her  land  of  Hellas,  the  embattled  walls, 
The  shore  of  horses,  and  the  quiet  fields 


176  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Wherein  my  father  lived. 
I  must  obey  her  call  and  worship  Thee 

In  this  embittered  land 
Far  from  Eurotas  and  from  happiness. 

A  THIRD  MAIDEN. 

(Going  to  Iphigenia,  who  enters  from  the  Tern- 
Pie) 

0  daughter  of  the  king  that  gathered  ships 
A  thousand  strong  and  led 

Unnumbered  men  against  high-towering  Troy, 

1  heard  thee  call  and  I  have  come  to  thee. 
Why  hast  thou  summoned  us? 

What  makes  thy  cheek  so  thoughtful  and  so  pale? 

What  has  thy  tongue  to  tell, 
That  thy  brow  is  dark  and  bowed  upon  thy  hands? 

IPHIGENIA. 

My  maidens,  listen!    Listen  while  I  tell 

What  I  have  seen.     The  Muse  has  hid  Her  face 

And  I  am  mourning  for  a  kinsman  lost. 

Last  night  I  had  a  dream  of  destiny. 

O  weep  with  me !  —  I  saw  my  brother  dead ! 

My  dream  was  clear.     My  father's  house  is  ended, 

My  race  broken  and  gone,  Orestes  dead ! 

What  anguish,  Argos,  art  thou  made  to  bear 
When  Fate  pursues  me  still  and  takes  from  me 
My  only  brother !  — 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  177 

To  the  vanished  dead 
Let  me  now  pour  this  offering,  this  gift 
Upon  the  earth,  commingled  of  the  milk 
Of  mountain-kine  and  of  the  wine  of  Bacchus 
And  of  the  honey  that  the  russet  bees 
Gathered, —  a  soothing  gift  for  him  I  loved. 
Give  me  the  heavy  urn  of  gold,  to  hold 
My  offering  to  the  God  of  Death. 

This  urn, 

Orestes,  son  of  Agamemnon,  thou 
That  liest  dead  beneath  the  earth,  I  bring 
And  pour  for  thee.     Better  I  cannot  bring, 
I  cannot  bring  to  thee  my  heavy  locks, 
I  cannot  lay  them,  weeping,  on  thy  grave. 
And  yet,  though  men  believe  me  long  since  dead, 
I  still  can  weep,  far  from  my  home  and  thee. 

A  FOURTH  MAIDEN. 

O  Lady,  woe  is  in  me  for  thy  woe, 

My  song  is  like  the  song 
Of  old  that  mourners  in  the  far-off  east 
Chant  for  the  dead,  reciting  only  death, 

The  very  song  of  hell, 
A  wail  of  no  returning  and  no  hope, 

Using  no  note  of  glory, 
Only  the  desolation  of  the  grave. 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

Mourn  for  the  sons  of  Atreus,  in  whose  house 


178  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

The  hearth  can  never  burn! 
Mourn  for  their  bitter  heritage,  a  home 
That  waits  the  coming  of  some  happy  King 

But  cannot  give  him  welcome! 
Trouble  is  born  forever  in  their  sky 

Since  Phoebus  turned  His  car 
Of  toppling  horses  out  of  the  course  of  joy. 

THE  THIRD  MAIDEN. 

There  was  desired  long  since  a  golden  lamb, 

And  out  of  the  dispute 
Mischief  arose  to  tantalize  thy  house     .     .     . 

THE  FOURTH  MAIDEN. 

Vengeance  has  made  its  unappeased  way 

With  every  dart  of  death 
And  visited  thy  family  one  by  one, 

And  now  with  eager  hand 
Fate  is  pursuing  thee.     Thy  turn  has  come. 

IPHIGENIA. 

O  bitter  my  beginning  in  the  womb 

Of  her  who  bore  me,  from  the  very  night 

That  she  conceived!     Appointed  by  the  Fates 

To  suffer  in  this  world,  I  was  a  child 

Accursed.     Yet  how  she  cherished  me,  her  first-born, 

And  thrilled  that  I,  of  all  the  girls  of  Argos, 

Should  be  a  bride  upon  the  way  to  Troy! 

What  had  she  borne  me  for  and  loved  me  for?  — 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  179 

To  come  to  nothing,  through  my  father's  fault! 
To  come,  behind  the  horses  of  delight, 
Not  to  Achilles  —  but  to  grief  and  horror ! 

And  now  beside  this  melancholy  sea 
I  live  my  days  —  lonely,  no  love,  no  friends, 
Wife  of  no  man  and  mother  of  no  child. 
I  know  no  home.     I  sing  no  Argive  song 
With  Argive  women  to  the  Queen  of  Heaven. 
I  weave  upon  the  whirring  loom  no  tale 
Of  Pallas  routing  Titans     .     .     .     O,  instead, 
I  see  an  altar  stained  with  bloody  death. 
I  hear  the  cry  for  pity  and  the  moans 
Of  men  —  a  woe  too  hideous  to  be  told. 

Yet  even  that  is  little  to  me  now  — 
Now  that  a  throne  is  empty  and  his  eyes 
Are  past  all  weeping,  as  I  wish  mine  were. 
For  I  who  loved  Orestes  all  those  years 
Shall  never  see  him  now  but  as  I  left  him, 
A  little  baby  at  his  mother's  breast  — 
I  who  had  thought  to  see  him  as  a  King. 

THE  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

Look !  —  from  the  beach  a  herdsman  comes  to  thee, 
Comes  like  a  man  with  news! 

HERDSMAN. 

(Arriving  breathless) 
O  daughter  of  the  house  of  Agamemnon, 


i8o  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

I  have  a  thing  to  tell! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Is  it  a  thing 
To  warrant  this  intrusion? 


HERDSMAN. 

Yes     ...     A  ship 
From  sea  has  rounded  the  Symplegades 
And  in  the  mist  two  men  have  come  ashore, 
Young,  worthy  to  be  offered  on  the  altar! 
Make  ready  then  the  Feast  of  Artemis! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Where  are  they  from?  —  what  country?     Couldst 
thou  tell? 

HERDSMAN. 

From  Hellas,  but  I  could  not  say  what  part. 

IPHIGENIA. 

What  were  their  names?     Thou  must  have  heard 
their  names! 

HERDSMAN. 

One  of  them  called  the  other  "  Pylades." 

IPHIGENIA. 
And  the  one  who  spoke? 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  181 

HERDSMAN. 

We  did  not  hear  his  name. 

IPHIGENIA. 
Where  were  they  captured? 

HERDSMAN. 

Down  beside  the  sea. 

IPHIGENIA. 

What  were  you  herdsmen  doing  by  the  sea? 

HERDSMAN. 
Washing  our  cattle  there. 

IPHIGENIA. 

But  answer  me, 

How  were  they  captured  ?     It  is  new  to  me 
And  unbelievable.     For  all  this  time 
Has  passed  and  never  brought  a  Greek  before 
To  bleed  in  sacrifice  —  never  a  Greek. 

HERDSMAN. 

Just  as  we  drove  our  cattle  from  the  woods 

In  that  long  hollow  where  the  curling  tide 

Has  cut  away  the  cliff,  where  fishers  rest 

From  purple-fishing,  one  of  us  ahead 

Came  stealing  back  on  tiptoe  and  he  warned  us: 

"  They  are  not  men  but  Gods !     Behind  that  rock !  — 


1 8 2  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Not   men   but   Gods!"     And   then   another  herds 
man, 
Caught   sight   of   them,    raised   up   his   hands   and 

prayed : 

"  God  in  whose  keeping  are  all  ships,  Palaemon !  — - 
Have  mercy  on  us,  whether  these  be  Sons 
Of  Zeus  or  Brothers  of  the  Fifty  Nereids!  " 
But  another  mocked  our  fear  and  laughed  aloud, 
Daring  the  possible  anger  of  the  Gods. 
For  he  maintained  there  must  have  been  a  wreck 
And  these  were  mariners  who  chose  that  cave 
To  hide  in,  having  heard  that  strangers  here 
Are  sacrificed.     And  he  persuaded  most 
Of  us;  and  we  were  planning  what  to  do 
To  capture  them  —  when  one  of  them  came  out 
Into  full  view  and,  standing  there  a  moment, 
Stared  not  at  us  nor  anything  we  saw 
But  straight  above  him,  groaning,  shuddering, 
And  bent  his  head  from  one  side  to  the  other 
Behind  his  arms,  like  one  delirious, 
And  then  cried  out  as  sharply  as  a  hunter: 
"Look,  Pylades!     O  look  at  her!     O  look! 
There!  —  there!     Dost  thou  not  see  her  now?  — 

that  Fury 

From  hell!     Look  at  the  serpent  on  her  head 
With  mouth  wide  open,  writhing  for  my  blood 
Another !  —  and  another !     Look  at  her 
High  on  the  cliff,  belching  a  flame  at  me 
And  holding  in  her  hands  my  mother's  body 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  183 

Till  she  can  hurl  it  down  on  me  and  kill  me! 
O  they  are  all  around  me!  Pylades!  " 
And  we  could  tell  by  the  motion  of  his  head 
When  the  dogs  barked  or  when  the  cattle  lowed 
That  some  invisible  Fury  mocking  him 
Became  to  him  in  every  sound  a  threat. 

In  our  amazement  we  were  sitting  there 
Like  stricken  men  —  when  out  he  whipped  his  sword 
And,  quick  as  a  lion,  leapt  upon  our  herd 
As  if  attacking  Furies  there.     He  slashed 
Their  sides  with  might  and  main  until  the  rim 
Of  the  sea  was  rolling  thick  with  gore.     We  saw 
Our  herd  wounded  and  dying  and  we  looked 
For  sticks  to  arm  ourselves  and  blew  our  horns 
For  help.     And  then  when  slowly  we  approached 

him  — 

His  madness  left  him.     I  can  see  him  now 
Standing  a  moment.     While  I  watch  he  drops 
In  a  heap  and  foaming  at  the  lips.     Our  chance !  — 
Our     chance!     Forward     we     hurried     with     our 

cudgels 

And  rocks.     But  still  his  comrade,  unafraid, 
Leaned  over  him  and  wiped  his  lips  and  held 
A  linen  fold  above  his  face  protecting  him  — 
Till  suddenly  the  fallen  man  stood  up 
Calm  and  himself  again  and  saw  the  rush 
Of  stones  that  neared  him  like  a  breaking  wave. 
He  gave  one  groan  as  we  surrounded  him; 
And  then  we  heard  his  voice  ring  clear  and  say: 


I  84  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

"  Death,  Pylades !     Then  let  us  meet  it  well  — 
Like  men !     Out  with  thy  sword  and  follow  me !  " 

Back  from  the  glittering  swords  we  ran,  to  lure 
Them  to  the  glen.     For  there  when  some  of  us 
Would  run  to  shelter  others  could  hurl  rocks 
To  draw  the  pursuers  off  and  then  could  fly 
And  let  the  first  come  back  again  with  stones. 
And  yet  the  destined  offering  stood  clean. 
For,  strange  as  it  may  sound,  of  all  the  stones 
We  volleyed  at  those  men,  not  one  went  true! 
All  we  could  hope  for  was  to  wear  them  out. 
So,  working  round  them  in  a  ring,  we  struck 
Their  swords  with  stones,  until  they  lost  their  hold 
And  had  no  breath  for  the  recovery. 

And  then  we  took  them  captive  to  the  King, 
Who  ordered  us  to  bring  them  here  to  thee 
To  be  prepared  and  bled  for  Artemis. 

Ask  Artemis,  O  priestess,  to  direct 
Other  such  wanderers  as  these  to  Tauris! 
Let  men  from  Hellas  shed  their  blood  for  thine 
Which  men  from  Hellas  clamored  for  at  Aulis! 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

This  is  no  common  man  who  came  away 
From  the  land  of  Hellas  to  an  alien  shore 
And  battled  like  a  God ! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Go  back  and  bring  me  the  two  mariners. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  185 

I  shall  be  ready  for  them  with  the  rites. 
(Exit  the  Herdsman) 

Poor  heart  of  mine,  which  in  the  days  gone  by 

Was  tender  and  compassionate  to  strangers, 

And  even  yesterday  grew  pitiful 

At  thought  of  men  from  Hellas  coming  here, 

A  cruel  dream  has  changed  thee  overnight. 

For  since  Orestes  is  no  more  alive, 

Now,     where     my     heart     was,     there     is     only 

stone 

And  you  who  come  today,  no  matter  who, 
Will  find  in  me  a  woman  without  tears. 

Friends,  by  my  own  unhappiness  I  know 
That  the  experience  of  evil  days 
Brings  disregard  for  lesser  sufferers. 

No  heaven-sent  wind  has  ever  forced  a  ship 
Between  the  Clashing  Rocks,  bringing  me  Helen, 
That  Helen  whom  I  hate,  and  Menelaus, 
That  I  might  make  of  them  the  sacrifice, 
Let  a  new  Aulis  expiate  the  old  — 
And  have  my  vengeance !  —  It  was  Helen's  fault 
And  his,  that  Greek  hands  lifted  me  at  Aulis 
And  led  me  like  a  beast  before  the  altar  — 
Where  he  who  held  the  knife  was  my  own  father. 

I  live  it  all  again.     My  hands  groping 
Go  out  to  him  again  and  touch  his  beard 


1 86  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

And  cling  about  his  knees.     I  cry  to  him: 
"  O  thou  thyself,  thyself,  hast  brought  me  here ! 
Thou  hast  deceived  my  maidens  and  my  mother! 
They  sing  my  marriage-song  at  home,  they  fill 
The    house    with    happiness    .     .     .     and    all    the 

time 

Here  am  I  dying  —  slain,  father,  by  thee! 
Thou  hast  led  me  in  thy  chariot,  to  take 
Achilles  for  my  lord.     But  here  is  death  — 
And  on  my  lips  no  kiss  but  only  blood !  " 

And  I  had  left  my  home  with  my  white  veil 
•Drawn  down.     I  had  not  taken  in  my  arms 
My  brother,  who  is  dead,  nor  kissed  my  sister. 
I  had  saved  all  my  kisses  and  embraces 
For  him  I  thought  to  marry     .     .     .     Yet  my  heart 
Was  homesick  even  then  and  ached  with  hope 
That  I  should  soon  come  back  again  to  Argos. 

And  thou  art  dead,  Orestes,  and  thou  too 
Foregoest  our  inheritance,  our  home! 

O  what  has  Artemis  desired  of  me?  — 

She  who  forbids  Her  court  to  any  man 

Whose  hand  is  stained  with  bloodshed  or  with  touch 

Of  childbirth  or  of  burial,  calls  him 

Unclean  and  bans  him  —  She  so  scrupulous 

In  all  these  things  —  will  yet  receive  the  blood 

Of  human  beings  on  Her  altar-stone? 

It  is  not  credible.     Latona  bore 

To  Zeus  no  daughter  so  unkind!     The  thing 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  187 

Is  no  more  true  than  are  the  tales  they  tell 

Of  Tantalus  preparing  for  the  Gods 

A  child  whom  They  devoured     .     .     .     Artemis, 

These  people  being  murderers  themselves, 

Impute  to  Thee  their  own  iniquity. — 

No !  —  I  will  not  believe  it  of  a  God ! 

THE  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

Who  can  these  be  that  left  the  holy  streams 

Of  Dirce,  or  the  reeds 
Green-growing  in  Eurotas,  to  prefer 
This  bitter  beach,  to  dare  the  ominous  rocks 

Where  the  seas  meet  in  fog, 
Where  Artemis,  among  Her  colonnades 

Demanding  sacrifice, 
Receives  upon  Her  altars  human  blood? 

THE  FOURTH  MAIDEN. 

Why  have  they  urged  the  oarsmen  on  their  ship 

To  shake  the  clinging  sea 
With  a  great  stroke,  and  to  accelerate 
With  rush  of  rivalry  the  racing  wind? 

Was  it  to  sweep  the  shores 
For  riches  and  to  vie  in  bearing  home, 

Each  to  upbuild  his  house, 
The  treasures  and  the  trophies  of  the  world? 

That  glittering  hope  is  immemorial 
And  beckons  many  men 


1 88  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

To  their  undoing.     Ever  insatiate, 

They  sail  the  sea  and  look  to  foreign  towns 

To  fill  their  ships  with  spoil. 
But  some  men  never  find  prosperity, 

For  all  their  voyaging; 
While  others  find  it  with  no  voyaging. 

THE  THIRD  MAIDEN. 

How  have  they  passed  the  peril  of  the  rocks 

That  clash?  and  of  the  beach 
Of  Phineus  heavy  with  broken  waves? 
How  have  they  turned  their  rudder  to  the  land 

Where  the  Fifty  Nereids 
Hand  in  hand  dance  and  circle  round  and  sing, 

Where  the  wings  of  ocean  brood, 
And  where  Achilles  rode  by  the  dark  water? 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

My  Lady  prayed  that  Fate  might  hither  bring, 

On  the  way  home  from  Troy, 
The  cause  of  her  great  misery.     O  would 
That  Helen,  Helen  had  been  blown  ashore, 

That  on  her  fatal  head, 
For  recompense,  the  holy  drops  might  fall 

And  that  my  Lady's  knife 
Might  find  in  her  the  fitting  sacrifice! 

THE  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

But  I  have  prayed  for  a  deliverer, 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  189 

Some  mariner  from  Hellas 
Able  to  end  our  pain  and  set  us  free. 
Ever  I  go,  though  only  in  a  dream, 

Back  to  my  father's  home    .     .     . 
No  man  has  greater  riches  than  the  joy 

That  comes  to  us  in  visions  — 
They  cannot  take  away  from  us  our  dreams. 

THE  THIRD  MAIDEN. 

Look  where   they   come!  —  two  captives  bound   in 

chains! 

The  herdsman's  news  was  true ! 
Hush  for  the  offering  to  Artemis! 

THE  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

See,  Hellas,  how  thy  hands  are  impotent* 
To  change  this  ritual! 

THE  FOURTH  MAIDEN. 

O  Artemis,  if  Tauris  in  Thy  sight 

Win  favor  by  this  gift, 
Assert  Thy  custom  and  receive  this  blood! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Let  me  now  think  of  none  but  Artemis 

And  serve  Her  with  the  worship  She  demands. 

Loosen  their  hands.     For  in  this  holy  court 

Chains  are  unhallowed  things.     Enter  the  Temple. 


190  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Prepare  the  altar  for  the  ritual. 
(Turning  to  the  captives) 

I  wonder  who  your  mother  was?  —  your  father?  — 

Whether  you  had  a  sister  who  has  lost 

Her  brothers  and  laments  their  bravery  ?  — 

Invisible  and  mute,  Fate  comes  and  goes 

And  never  whispers  where  Her  blow  shall  fall ; 

None  of  us  ever  sees  Her  in  the  dark 

Or  understands  Her  cruel  mysteries. 

Tell  me,  unhappy  men,  where  are  you  from  ?  — 

You  who  are  far  from  home  and  yet  must  go 

Farther  away  from  home  even  than  this! 

ORESTES. 

What  woman  art  thou,  weeping  for  our  lot? 
What  can  we  mean  to  thee,  to  draw  thy  pity, 
To  make  our  tribulation  difficult? 

There  is  no  wisdom  in  lamenting  death 
And  only  fools,  when  they  behold  it  near, 
Meet  it  with  tears.     The  man  who  doubles  death 
By  the  cowardice  of  pitying  himself 
Earns  for  himself  contempt  as  well  as  death     .     .     , 
Let  us  accept  our  fortune  as  it  comes  — 
No  pity  and  no  tears !     We  dared  our  fate. 
And  what  we  undertook  —  we  undertook. 

IPHIGENIA. 

One  of  your  names  was  brought  me  by  a  herdsman. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  191 

Tell  me  then,  which  of  you  is  Pylades? 

ORESTES. 

He,  if  it  does  thee  any  good  to  know. 


IPHIGENIA. 

And  from  what  town  in  Hellas? 

ORESTES. 

Does  it  matter? 

IPHIGENIA. 

And  are  you  brothers  ? 

ORESTES. 

In  all  else  but  birth. 

IPHIGENIA. 

And  what  may  I  call  thee? 

ORESTES. 

Unfortunate! 

IPHIGENIA. 

That  would  be  pity's  name  for  thee,  not  mine. 

ORESTES. 

Then  say  I  have  no  name  and  call  me  nothing. 


192  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

Art  thou  so  jealous  for  thy  reputation? 

ORESTES. 

Come,  sacrifice  my  body,  not  my  name! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thou  wilt  not  even  name  for  me  thy  town? 

ORESTES. 

I  am  so  soon  a  townsman  of  no  town. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Surely  it  is  not  much  to  tell  me  that. 

ORESTES. 
Ah,  but  it  is  —  when  one  can  answer,  "  Argos  " ! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Argos?  not  Argos?  thou  art  not  from  Argos? 

ORESTES. 

My  town,  Mycenae,  was  a  lordly  place. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Then   what   could   bring  thee   from   it?  —  banish 
ment? 

ORESTES. 

A  kind  of  banishment  —  yet  self-imposed. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  193 

IPHIGENIA. 

How  fortunate  to  see  a  son  of  Argos! 

ORESTES. 

But  not  to  be  one  in  thy  company! 

IPHIGENIA. 

And  let  me  ask  about  another  town  — 

ORESTES. 

But  why  this  questioning? 

IPHIGENIA. 

O  tell  me  news 

Of  that  most  talked-of  town  in  all  the  world! 
What  hast  thou  heard  of  Troy? 

ORESTES. 

By  all  the  Gods, 
I  wish  that  I  had  never  heard  its  name! 

IPHIGENIA. 

But  is  it  true  that  Troy  is  overthrown? 

ORESTES. 

Its  towers  lie  broken  in  the  dust. 

IPHIGENIA. 

And  Helen? 
Has  Menelaus  taken  Helen  back? 


194  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

ORESTES. 

And  soon  repented.     For  she  brings  him  sorrow. 

IPHIGENIA. 

She  brought  me  sorrow  too.     Where  is  she  now? 

ORESTES. 

Gone  back  with  him  to  Sparta. 

IPHIGENIA. 

How  I  hate 
The  name  of  Helen!     How  all  Hellas  hates  it! 

ORESTES. 

I  have  my  own  good  cause  for  hating  it. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Did  the  Achaeans  return  home  contented? 

ORESTES. 

It  would  take  many  tongues  to  answer  that. 

IPHIGENIA. 

But  tell  me  quickly,  while  there  still  is  time! 

ORESTES. 

Then  ask  me  quickly.     I  will  answer  thee. 

IPHIGENIA. 

What  of  the  soothsayer,  Calchas?    Where  is  he? 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  195 

ORESTES. 

Reported  dead  at  home. 

IPHIGENIA. 

O  Artemis, 
Hail  for  that  news!     And  is  Odysseus  dead? 

ORESTES. 

Neither  at  home  nor  dead  —  but  wandering. 

IPHIGENIA. 

O  how  I  pray  he  never  reach  his  home! 

ORESTES. 

Why  wish  him  that?     Has  he  not  borne  enough? 

IPHIGENIA. 

What  of  Achilles? 

ORESTES. 

Dead.     His  marriage  planned 
At  Aulis  never  happened. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Those  who  knew 
About  that  plan  knew  it  a  cruel  lie. 

ORESTES. 

Knowing  these  things,  art  thou  thyself  from  Hellas? 


196  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  was,  but  lost  my  home  long,  long  ago. 

ORESTES. 

No  wonder  thou  art  asking  me  these  questions! 

IPHIGENIA. 

What  of  that  king  they  called  The  Happy  King? 

ORESTES. 

The  one  I  think  thou  meanest  was  not  happy. 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  ask  of  Agamemnon. 

ORESTES. 

I  know  nothing, 
Nothing  of  him.     O  ask  me  no  more  questions! 

IPHIGENIA. 

But  no  news  must  be  good  news!     Say  it  is! 

ORESTES. 

The  news  is  death  —  his  and  another's  death. 

IPHIGENIA. 
O  Agamemnon !     O  King  Agamemnon ! 

ORESTES. 

Could  he  be  kin  to  thee,  thou  carest  so? 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  197 

IPHIGENIA. 

Remembering  his  glory  and  his  pride! 

ORESTES. 

All  of  it  ended  by  his  own  wife's  hand. 

IPHIGENIA. 

O !  —  Pitiable  woman !     Poor,  poor  king ! 

ORESTES. 

Ask  me  no  more,  I  beg,  not  one  word  more ! 

IPHIGENIA. 

But  is  she  living?     Answer  me  but  that! 

ORESTES. 

Her  own  son  killed  her. 

IPHIGENIA. 
Why? 

ORESTES. 

To  be  avenged 
On  her  who  killed  his  father. 

IPHIGENIA. 

How  exact 
He  was,  how  just!     Yet  how  I  pity  him! 


198  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

ORESTES. 
And  well  thou  mayest.    No  God  pities  him. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Not  one  of  Agamemnon's  children  left? 

ORESTES. 

Electra,  yes.     But  loses  him  she  loves! 

IPHIGENIA. 

What  has  been  said  of  her  they  sacrificed? 

ORESTES. 

Nothing  of  her,  except  that  she  is  dead. 

IPHIGENIA. 

O  miserable  king,  willing  to  slay  her ! 

ORESTES. 

O  wicked  war  caused  by  a  wicked  woman, 
And  all  the  waste  and  wicked  consequence! 

IPHIGENIA. 
The  son  of  the  dead  king  —  alive  in  Argos? 

ORESTES. 

Living,  but  not  in  Argos,  not  in  Argos ! 

IPHIGENIA. 

My  dream  was  nothing  then,  it  lied  to  me! 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  199 

ORESTES. 

Dreams,  lies,  lies,  dreams, —  nothing  but  emptiness! 
Even  the  Gods  with  all  Their  name  for  wisdom 
Have  only  dreams  and  lies  and  lose  Their  course, 
Blinded,  confused  and  ignorant  as  we. 

The  wisest  man  is  he  who  goes  his  way 
And  listens  to  no  prophet  guiding  him. 
The  fool  is  he  who-  follows  oracles, 
Forsaking  his  own  judgment.     Those  who  know 
Know  such  a  man  can  only  come  to  wreck. 

THE  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

O  who  will  bring  us  news  whether  our  kin 
Are  living  or  are  dead ! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Let  me  suggest  a  plan  that  I  have  thought  of, 

To  our  advantage,  yours  as  well  as  mine. 

And  nothing  makes  more  surely  for  achievement 

Than  interests  in  common.     Tell  me  this     .     .     . 

Wilt  thou  go  back,  if  I  can  grant  thee  leave, 

Bearing  for  me  to  Argos  and  my  friends 

A  letter  that  has  been  prepared  for  them? 

My  words  were  written  down  by  one  who  died 

Here  at  my  ritual  but  pitied  me, 

Blaming  his  blood  on  Artemis,  not  me. 

No  one  had  come  from  Hellas,  not  one  Greek, 

Whose  life  might  be  conceded  to  bear  home 

My  message.     But  in  thee  I  find  a  man 

Worthy  to  carry  it,  knowing  the  names 


200  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

And  places  dear  to  me.     And  so  I  ask 
Thy  help  and  offer  in  exchange  thy  life  — 
With  one  condition:  that  thy  friend  remain, 
To  pay  the  sacrifice  to  Artemis. 

ORESTES. 

I  thank  thee,  Lady,  for  a  fair  proposal, 

Save  in  that  one  respect.     What  would  my  life 

Be  worth  to  me,  earned  by  deserting  him? 

I  am  the  captain  of  this  misadventure, 

And  he  but  sailed  with  me  to  comfort  me. 

It  would  be  wrong  if  he  should  pay  the  cost 

And  I  repudiate  my  enterprise. 

Thy  errand  shall  be  done  —  but  not  by  me. 

Give  him  thy  confidence,  give  him  thy  letter. 

To  thee  it  makes  no  difference  which  of  us 

Carries  the  message  homeward.     And  to  me 

It  makes  no  difference  when  I  die  or  how. 

But  if  I  brought  disaster  on  a  friend 

And  yet  myself  went  free,  then  there  would  be 

No  faith  left  in  me,  no  respect,  no  love. 

Besides,  his  life  is  dear  to  me  as  mine. 

His  life  is  mine.     For  in  his  life  —  I  live. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thou  hast  a  heart  of  gold  and  must  be  sprung 
From  some  great  seed,  to  be  so  true  a  friend.     . 
If  only  the  survivor  of  my  race 
May  be  like  thee!     I  have  a  brother  left, 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  201 

Although  I  should  not  know  him  by  his  face. 
As  thou  hast  chosen  then,  so  let  it  be. 
Thy  friend  shall  take  the  letter  —  and  thou  prove 
Thy  love  by  laying  down  thy  life  for  him. 

ORESTES. 

Whose  is  the  hand  that  sacrifices  me? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Whose  hand  but  mine!     Artemis  willed  it  so. 

ORESTES. 

Thy  hand!     Thy  poor,  unenviable  hand! 

IPHIGENIA. 

WTiat  is  imposed  on  me  I  must  obey. 

ORESTES. 

A  woman  hold  the  knife  to  shed  men's  blood! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Not  that !  —  O  not  the  knife !  —  Only  the  water, 
The  sacrificial  water  for  thy  brow. 

ORESTES. 

Who  is  it  then  that  strikes  the  final  blow  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Inside  the  Shrine  are  men  who  do  that  part. 


2O2  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

ORESTES. 

When  I  am  burnt,  what  happens  to  my  body? 

IPHIGENIA. 

They  seal  the  ashes  in  a  rocky  cleft. 

ORESTES. 

0  that  my  sister's  hand  might  tend  my  body! 

IPHIGENIA. 

She  is  too  far  away  from  thee  to  hear 

Petition  for  the  gift  she  cannot  give 

Being  from  Argos,  let  me  care  for  thee, 
Let  me  do  everything  that  she  might  do! 

1  will  array  thy  body  in  rich  robes  — 
Then  pour  upon  the  embers  yellow  oil 
Cooling  and  clean  and  the  golden  essences 
That  bees  collect  from  every  mountain-flower, 
To  make  thee  pure  and  sweet.     .     .     . 

Now  I  must  go 

And  bring  my  letter.     I  have  kept  it  here 
So  long  a  while. —  O  think  of  me  with  pity. 

See  that  you  guard  these  men,  but  do  not  bind  them. 

O  if  at  last  my  letter  should  arrive 

In  Argos  and  be  opened  by  the  hand 

Of  him  I  love,  a  letter  never  dreamed-of, 

Then  he  would  listen  through  the  opening  grave 

And  hear  my  living  lips  cry  out  to  him! 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  203 

(She  goes  into  the  Temple) 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

I  pity  thee  upon  whose  fated  head 
The  water  shall  be  sprinkled! 

ORESTES. 

But  choose  not  pity.     Change  it  into  hope. 

THE  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

Let  me  then  hope,  but  not  for  thee,  for  him, 

That  he  may  come  again 
Into  his  father's  country  and  be  blest. 

PYLADES. 

But  how  can  he  be  blest  who  leaves  his  friend? 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

Or  I  hold  back  my  pity  for  thy  death? 

THE  FOURTH  MAIDEN. 

And  yet  I  pity  thee,  having  to  live. 

THE  THIRD  MAIDEN. 
Which  is  unhappier? 

THE  FOURTH  MAIDEN. 

I  cannot  tell, —  I  watch  and  cannot  tell 
Whether  to  pity  thee,  or  thee,  the  more. 


204  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

ORESTES. 

O  Pylades,  what  art  thou  thinking  of? 

PYLADES. 

What  dost  thou  think  that  I  am  thinking  of? 

ORESTES. 

This  woman!     Thou  rememberest  her  questions, 

Each  one  so  apt;  of  the  defeat  of  Troy, 

Of  the  Achaeans'  homecoming,  of  Calchas, 

Of  Achilles,  and  her  great  concern 

At  Agamemnon's  death  and  then  her  questions 

About  his  wife  and  children?     I  believe 

That  she  herself,  she  too,  belongs  in  Argos !  — 

Or  she  would  never  send  a  letter  there 

And  make  all  these  inquiries  anxiously 

As  if  the  fate  of  Argos  were  her  own. 

PYLADES. 

Thou  hast  expressed  what  I  was  wondering. 

And  yet  I  thought  it  natural  enough 

That  in  a  city  at  all  civilized 

People  should  ask  about  the  fate  of  kings     .     .     . 

But  that  was  not  what  troubled  me,  so  much  as  — 

ORESTES. 

As  what?     Tell  me  and  let  me  help  thee  solve  it. 

PYLADES. 

How  canst  thou  wrong  me,  thinking  I  would  live 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  205 

And  let  thee  die?     As  I  set  out  with  thee 

So  shall  I  journey  with  thee  to  the  end, 

Or  I  should  never  show  my  face  again 

Among  the  hills  of  Argos,  but  to  be 

Despised  and  pointed  out  in  every  valley 

As  one  who  had  betrayed  a  friend.     And  worse 

Than  that  would  be  declared  of  me,  the  worst 

That  evil  minds  can  conjure  and  enjoy  — 

Even  that  I  had  wished  thy  death,  or  caused  it, 

That  I  might  profit  by  inheritance 

And,  being  thy  sister's  husband,  win  thy  throne. 

See  how  afraid  I  am  and  how  ashamed 
Of  the  very  thought  of  leaving  thee.     One  way, 
And  only  one  is  open.     Where  thou  goest, 
Though    to    the   knife   and    to    the    flame,    I    fol 
low — 
That  I  may  be  beyond  a  doubt  thy  friend. 

ORESTES. 

Thou  canst  not  be  my  friend  and  yet  deny  me. 

I  bear  a  load  that  cannot  be  laid  down, 

And  wilt  thou  lighten  thine  by  doubling  mine? 

All  the  humiliating  shame  that  thou 

But  fearest  from  men's  tongues  would  fall  to  me 

In  my  own  heart  from  my  own  conduct,  if  I  let 

The  services  thou  didst  me  bring  thee  harm. 

What  has  Fate  left  me  of  my  life  to  cherish 
But  a  good  ending?     As  for  thee,  my  friend, 
Thou  hast  not  any  right  to  choose  to  die. 


2o6  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Thou  hast  the  blessing  of  thy  happy  blood 

To  make  thee  wish  to  live.     And  so  I  pray 

That  by  thy  life  a  comfort  may  be  brought 

To  my  afflicted  house.     O  Pylades, 

When  thou  art  home,  there  with  thy  wife,  my  sister, 

Beget  for  me,  dear  friend,  my  happiness. 

Let  my  name  live  again  and  in  thy  children 

The  house  of  Agamemnon  be  renewed. 

Therefore  go  back  and  make  my  home  thy  home. 

And  having  come  to  Hellas  and  the  shore 

Where   the   Argive   horsemen   ride  —  give   me   thy 

hand 

And  swear  that  thou  wilt  make  a  grave  for  me 
And  lay  on  it  memorials  and  let 
My  sister  bring,  remembering  me,  a  lock 
Of  her  long  hair.     Tell  her  that  I  was  led 
Before  the  altar  by  the  hand  of  one 
Who  came  from  Argos,  by  a  woman's  hand, 
And  how  my  blood  at  last  was  purified. 
O  Pylades,  be  good  to  her,  be  true! 
And  fare  thee  well,  my  best  and  truest  friend, 
Loved  in  my  boyhood  when  I  shared  my  sport 
Over  the  hills  with  thee  and  in  my  manhood 
When  my  sorrows  came  and  thou  wert  with  me  still ! 

By  falsely  prophesying,  Phoebus  lied 
To  me  and  tricked  me ;  luring  me  away 
From  home,  lest  watchful  eyes  in  Hellas  see 
That  Gods,  like  men,  can  break  Their  promises. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  207 

I  gave  Him  everything,  my  faith,  my  will, 

I  killed  my  mother  for  He  bade  me  strike     .     ,     . 

And  in  return  He  has  forsaken  me. 

PYLADES. 

Let  me  obey  then  not  myself  but  thee  — 
And  build  thy  tomb  in  Hellas.     Be  assured 
That  I  shall  love  thy  sister  well  and  always. 
And  having  loved  thee  living,  I  shall  know 
How  to  receive  thee  closer  in  thy  death     .     .     . 
If  death  it  be.     We  marvel  at  the  Gods 
And  their  mysterious  way  of  keeping  hid 
The  face  of  life  behind  a  mask  of  death, 
Then  showing  the  true  face. 

ORESTES. 

The  time  is  gone 
For  the  Gods  to  show  that  face  —  for  she  has  come. 

IPHIGENIA. 

(Returning  and  addressing  the  Attendants) 
Precede  me  into  the  Temple  and  be  ready. 
(The  Attendants  enter  the  Temple) 

Here  is  my  letter,  all  this  length  of  it     .     .     . 
Yet  I  have  wondered.     When  a  man  arrives 


208  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Out  of  his  danger,  he  forgets  his  fear 
And  sometimes  he  forgets  his  promises. 
Wherefore  my  apprehension  lest  thy  friend, 
When  he  is  freed  and  on  his  way  again, 
Forget  how  much  this  letter  means  to  me. 

ORESTES. 

And  what  dost  thou  propose,  to  ease  thy  mind? 

IPHIGENIA. 

That  he  shall  swear  to  take  this  where  I  say. 

ORESTES. 

And  wilt  thou  make  an  oath  matching  his  oath? 

IPHIGENIA. 

To  do  what,  or  undo  what? 

ORESTES. 

To  obtain 
Safe  quittance  for  him  from  this  wretched  place. 

IPHIGENIA. 

What  would  his  oath  be  good  for,  lacking  mine? 

ORESTES. 

But  will  the  King  of  Tauris  let  him  sail? 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  can  persuade  the  King  and  will  myself 
Go  to  the  ship  and  put  thy  friend  aboard. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  209 

ORESTES. 

Then  state  the  oath  that  thou  wilt  have  him  swear. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Promise  to  give  this  letter  to  my  friend. 

PYLADES. 

I  swear  to  give  this  letter  to  thy  friend. 

IPHIGENIA. 

And  I  to  give  thee  safeguard  from  this  place. 

PYLADES. 

Thou  swearest  by  what  name? 

IPHIGENIA. 

By  Artemis, 
Whose  favor  be  upon  me  in  Her  temple! 

PYLADES. 

And  I  by  Zeus  Himself,  by  Heaven's  King. 

IPHIGENIA. 

And  if  thou  failest  to  fulfill  thy  oath? 

PYLADES. 

Then  may  I  never  see  Argos  again !  — 
And  if  thou  failest  in  fulfilling  thine? 


210  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

Then  let  me  fail  ever  to  come  to  Argos. 

PYLADES. 
There  is  one  chance  that  we  have  not  considered. 

IPHIGENIA. 

A  chance,  thou  meanest,  that  affects  thy  word? 

PYLADES. 

The  oath  would  not  be  fair  if  it  should  happen 
That  in  a  storm  the  vessel  should  be  wrecked 
Or  strike  a  rock  and  everything  go  down 
And  yet  my  life  be  saved  —  and  not  the  letter. 
In  that  event  I  ask  to  be  exempted. 

IPHIGENIA. 

In  any  plan,  two  ways  make  one  way  sure     .     .     , 

Then  let  me  tell  thee  carefully  word  by  word 

The  contents  of  my  letter,  thou  in  turn 

To  tell  it  to    my  friend.     And  that  insures  us. 

For  either  thou  shalt  place  it  in  his  hand 

And  let  the  silent  writing  speak  or  else 

The  writing,  lost,  shall  echo  still  in  thee. 

PYLADES. 

That  will  be  safer  both  for  thee  and  me. 
So  tell  me  whom  to  find  for  thee  in  Argos 
And  what  to  say  to  him. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  21 1 

IPHIGENIA. 

Say  this  to  him, 

Say  to  Orestes,  son  of  Agamemnon, 
A  greeting  comes  from  one  he  thought  was  dead. 
Tell  him  his  sister  is  not  dead  at  Aulis 
But  is  alive. 

ORESTES. 

Alive?     Iphigenia? 
O  no !  —  Unless  the  dead  come  back  again ! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thou  art  beholding  her,  for  I  am  she. 
But  let  me  finish  what  I  ask  of  him: 
"  O  brother,  rescue  me !     Let  me  not  live 
The  priestess  of  a  loathly  ritual!  — 
Let  me  not  die  forlorn,  in  a  wild  land !  " 

ORESTES. 

Where  am  I,  Pylades?     What  am  I  hearing? 

IPHIGENIA. 

"  Lest     thou,     remembering    me,     shalt    have     no 

peace !  "  — 
The  name,  thou  must  repeat  it,  is  Orestes. 

PYLADES. 
Ye  Gods! 


2 1 2  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

Not  Gods  but  a  woman  speaks  to  thee. 

PYLADES. 

It  seemed  I  heard  the  Gods  —  and  yet  heard  thee! 
O  let  me  listen  further  and  make  sure! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Tell  him  that  Artemis  put  out  Her  hand 
And  spared  my  life  at  Aulis,  leaving  a  deer 
To  bleed  for  me  instead,  and  that  my  father, 
Not  looking  when  he  struck,  thought  he  slew  me. 
Artemis  brought  me  here.    .    .    .    The  letter  ends. 

PYLADES. 

0  what  an  easy  oath  it  is  to  keep! 

Lady,  keep  thine  or  not  —  I  keep  mine  now. 

1  bring  thee  this,  Orestes,  from  thy  sister. 

ORESTES. 

How  can  I  look  at  letters  ?  —  Come  to  me ! 
O  let  me  look  at  thee  whom  I  had  lost !  — 
O  let  me  touch  thee  with  my  hands  and  prove 
That  thou  art  real  and  hold  thee  close,  close! 

THE  THIRD  MAIDEN. 

Lay  not  thy  hands,  no  matter  who  thou  art, 

Upon  those  holy  robes !  — 
Bring  not  indignity  to  Artemis! 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  213 

ORESTES. 

Thou  art  my  sister,  my  own  father's  daughter, 
And  nature  will  not  let  thee  turn  away 
From  thy  own  brother  given  back  to  thee. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Ah,  thou  wouldst  make  me  think  that  thou  art  he !  — 
Orestes  is  in  Argos  and  not  here. 

ORESTES. 

No,  my  poor  sister,  not  in  Argos!  —  here! 

IPHIGENIA. 
Then  was  Tyndareus  thy  mother's  father? 

ORESTES. 

Yes,  and  my  father's  grandfather  was  Pelops. 

IPHIGENIA. 
What  art  thou  saying?     How  can  I  believe  thee? 

ORESTES. 

By  asking  me  about  our  father's  home. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Then  speak  of  it!  —  for  I  am  listening! — speak! 

ORESTES. 

Electra  used  to  tell  us  tales  of  Atreus 

And  of  Thyestes,  how  they  came  to  quarrel. 


214  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

It  was  about  a  golden  lamb  they  quarreled! 

ORESTES. 

And  thy  hands  made,  with  fine  embroideries, 
A  pattern  of  the  quarrel. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Art  thou  he? 
Art  thou  in  truth  my  brother?  —  art  thou  he? 

ORESTES. 

There  was  a  picture,  on  thy  loom,  of  Phoebus 
Changing  His  course.     Hast  thou  forgotten  that? 

IPHIGENIA. 

O  not  one  thread  of  it  have  I  forgotten ! 

ORESTES. 

There  was  a  bath  of  bridal  fragrances 

Thy  mother  sent  to  Aulis. —  Thou  rememberest? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Everything  on  that  day  I  can  remember  — 
But  happiness. 

ORESTES. 

A  lock  of  hair  that  came, 
Sent  to  thy  mother. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  215 

IPHIGENIA. 

A  memorial 

I  meant  it  for,  commemorating  me  — 
To  mark  a  grave  where  I  could  never  lie. 

ORESTES. 

And  I  recall  a  keepsake  in  thy  room, 

The  ancient  spear  that  Pelops  once  had  used 

To  win  his  bride. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Orestes,  O  my  brother! 
My  home  has  come  to  me  from  far  away! 
For  thou  art  come,  I  have  thee  in  my  arms ! 

ORESTES. 

And  I  have  thee  in  mine,  whom  I  thought  dead! 
No  wonder  that  the  tears  are  in  our  eyes!  — 
Of  joy,  not  sorrow !  —  yet  of  sorrow  too ! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thou  wert  a  baby,  when  I  came  away, 

Lifted  to  see  me.     And  thy  little  arms 

Held  out  to  me  are  come  to  me  again, 

Grown  strong  to  comfort  me.     How  can  I  speak 

My  joy!     There  is  no  language  sweet  enough! 

There  is  no  joy  like  this.     There  never  was! 

THE  FOURTH  MAIDEN. 

And  would  that  we  might  say  it  need  not  end ! 


216  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  am  bewildered.     And  I  cannot  think 

What  I  should  say,  my  friends  ?  —  I  cannot  think 

Of  anything  but  joy  —  except  a  fear 

That  he  might  vanish  as  he  came.     O  Argos, 

Land  of  my  love,  my  heart  is  full  of  thee, 

And  of  my  brother  thou  hast  borne  and  bred 

To  be  a  living  glory  to  thy  name! 

ORESTES. 

We  who  were  born  to  happiness  have  lived 
And  learned  unhappiness. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Unhappiness  ?  — 

0  how  I  learned  it  when  against  my  throat 
My  own  unhappy  father  held  the  knife! 

ORESTES. 

1  have  a  vision  of  his  stricken  face. 

IPHIGENIA. 

And  the  false  marriage,  when  the  marriage-hymn 
Was  made  of  tears!     Not  to  Achilles'  arms 
I  went,  but  to  the  coldness  of  the  altar  — 
And  felt  the  bitter  waters  on  my  head. 

ORESTES. 

Unhappy  daughter  and  unhappy  father! 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  217 

IPHIGENIA. 

But  why  have  pity  on  a  pitiless  man 
Who  brought  me  all  this  grief  ? 

ORESTES. 

And  might  have  brought 
On  thee  to-day  —  the  slaying  of  thy  brother! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Some  God  prevented.     But  I  came  so  near, 
My  hand  was  so  impending  on  the  deed, 
That  I  am  shaken,  with  the  thought  of  thee  — 
Dead!     .     .     . 

We  have  seen  today  a  miracle 
Begin.     How  shall  it  end  for  thee  and  me? 
How  shall  I  speed  thee  safely  from  this  place 
Of  horror  home  again?     For  there  are  swords 
To  face:  a  question  fitter  for  thy  wit 
To  weigh  than  mine,  though  thou  art  shaken  too. 
Shouldst  thou  be  safer  travelling  by  foot 
Than  by  the  ship  ?     No,  no !  —  I  see  thee  go 
Losing  thy  way  among  barbarians 
Ashore,  encompassed  by  a  thousand  deaths. 
The  ship  is  better  —  even  that  sharp  return 
Between  the  Clashing  Rocks.     Go!  —  dare  the  sea, 
Take  to  the  ship  again!     And  yet  who  knows 
If  God  or  man  shall  guide  thee  on  the  sea 
To  liberation  ?  —  or  if  any  chance 
Can  save  thee  now  to  make  our  home  a  glory? 


2i 8  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

THE  THIRD  MAIDEN. 

I  have  heard  marvellous  tales  from  story-tellers, 

But  nothing  to  compare 
With  this  event  which  my  own  eyes  have  seen. 

PYLADES. 

Orestes,  it  is  natural  for  thee 

To  greet  thy  sister  and  recount  with  her 

The  happenings  of  thy  house.     But  there  are  things 

Of  urgency  to  think  of:  our  escape 

Out  of  this  land  and  how  to  compass  it. 

For  he  is  wise  who  makes  a  friend  of  Fortune 

And  goes  to  meet  her  when  she  comes  to  him. 

ORESTES. 

Well  said!  —  and  let  her  be  well  met  to-day!  — 
For  every  God  helps  him  who  helps  himself. 

IPHIGENIA. 

But  he  shall  tell  me  first  about  my  sister, 
About  Electra !  —  Tell  me  of  my  sister ! 

ORESTES. 

This  is  her  husband.     He  has  made  her  happy. 

IPHIGENIA. 
This  man  ?  —  But  who  — 

ORESTES. 

A  Phocian.     Strophius'  son. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  2  1 9 

IPHIGENIA. 
Then  he  is  Atreus'  grandson !  —  Our  own  house ! 

ORESTES. 

Thy  cousin;  my  one  friend. 

IPHIGENIA. 

As  yet  unborn 
That  day  I  came  away  to  die! 

ORESTES. 

The  son 
Of  Strophius  in  old  age. 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  welcome  thee, 
My  sister's  husband. 

ORESTES. 

Closer  to  me  than  brother. 

IPHIGENIA. 

But  O  our  mother?  — for  thou  hast  not  told  me  — 

ORESTES. 
Let  us  not  speak  of  her!  —  she  killed  my  father. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thou  hast  not  told  me  why. 


220  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

ORESTES. 

Then  do  not  ask  me. 

IPHIGENIA. 

May  I  not  ask  if  thou  art  King  of  Argos  ? 

ORESTES. 

Not  King  but  exile.     Menelaus  is  King. 

IPHIGENIA. 

What?  —  in  thy  time  of  grief  he  banished  thee? 

ORESTES. 

Not  he  but  Furies  —  the  avenging  Fiends! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thy  madness  on  the  beach  —  it  was  the  Fiends  ? 

ORESTES. 

Yes,  yes!     One  seeing  me  might  think  me  mad. 

IPHIGENIA. 

And  they  pursue  thee  for  thy  mother's  death? 

ORESTES. 

To  catch  me  and  to  curb  me  with  her  blood! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thy  coming  here? 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  221 

ORESTES. 

An  oracle  of  Phoebus. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Which  I  may  know  about? 

ORESTES. 

O  let  me  tell 
My  bitter  narrative  from  end  to  end     .     .     . 

After  this  poor  hand  had  unspeakably 
Punished  my  mother's  most  unspeakable  guilt, 
Down  on  my  head  they  came  attacking  me, 
The  Fiends  from  Hell.     Then  Phoebus  ordered  me 
To  Athens,  that  I  might  protest  their  judgment 
At  the  Tribunal  Zeus  had  sanctified 
To  the  trial  of  Ares  for  some  ancient  sin. 

When  I  arrived  there,  none  of  all  my  friends 
Received  me.     They  avoided  me  at  first 
As  one  unclean.     Later  they  pitied  me 
And  gave  me  food  in  the  same  room  with  them, 
But  at  a  separate  table.     And  they  served  me 
An  equal  measure  with  themselves  and  filled 
My  cup  when  theirs  were  filled,  but  turned 
Away  and  would  not  look  at  me  nor  speak 
With  me  —  because  I  was  a  murderer.     .     .     . 
And  I  showed  no  resentment  but  in  silence, 
As  though  I  did  not  care,  I  thought  of  her 
Whom  I  had  killed  and  drank  my  bitter  cup. 

They  say  that  the  Athenians  memorize 


222  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

My  sorrow  with  a  feast,  the  Pitcher  Feast, 
In   which    each    man    drinks    his    own    cup    in    si 
lence.     .     .     . 

When  I  had  come  to  judgment  on  that  hill, 
I  on  one  side  and  on  the  other  side 
The  eldest  of  the  Avengers  charging  me 
With  murder,  Phoebus  rose  to  my  defence 
And  by  His  eloquence  redeemed  my  life. 
For  Pallas,  in  the  chair,  finding  the  votes 
Cast  evenly,  for  and  against  me,  added 
Her  own  vote  for  me  and  acquitted  me. 

Some  of  the  Furies  acquiesced  and  chose 
To  infest  a  Temple  close  to  the  Tribunal. 
Others  defied  the  verdict  as  unjust 
And  turned  on  me  again,  tormenting  me, 
Till  I  fled  back  to  Phoebus  for  His  aid, 
Fell  down  before  the  Shrine,  faint  with  despair, 
And  swore  to  take  my  life  —  unless  the  God 
Who  had  confounded  me  would  rescue  me. 

And  then  out  pealed  His  voice,  His  golden  voice 
Above  the  tripod,  telling  me  to  go 
Among  the  Taurians,  to  take  away 
Their  Artemis  of  stone  carven  in  Heaven 
And  to  establish  it  and  worship  it 
In  Athens. 

Help  me  now  to  do  this  thing! 
O  help  me,  sister,  to  obey  the  God 
And  carry  out  His  mission!     Help  me,  sister!  — 
If  only  I  may  take  within  my  hands 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  223 

The  image  of  the  Goddess,  I  am  rid 

Of  madness!     And  I  urge  thee  with  a  gift 

Of  rugged  rowers  rowing  thee  back  to  Argos! 

0  sister,  sister,   for  our  father's  house 

1  beg  thy  aid,  to  save  that  house  and  me! 
Unless  we  take  the  Image  with  thy  help, 
This  very  day  shall  see  our  house  destroyed. 

THE  FOURTH  MAIDEN. 

Some  God  is  visiting  ancestral  sin 
Upon  new  generations. 

IPHIGENIA. 

How  long,  before  thy  coming,  had  I  dreamed 

Of  thee  and  of  my  country!     How  I  wish 

With  thee  the  restoration  of  our  house  — 

Even  his  house  who  would  have  slain  me!     Brother, 

My  heart  has  melted  in  our  misery. 

I  have  no  anger  left,  but  only  thought 

Of  thee  escaping  and  our  house  revived. 

What  can  I  do?  —  how  hide  from  Artemis?  — 
And  how  put  off  the  King  when  he  perceives 
But  empty  air  upon  the  pedestal? 
I  am  afraid  —  no,  not  of  death  itself 
But  of  the  interim,  the  dying  hope.     .     .     . 
If  we  might  take  the  Image  and  be  quick 
And  flee  together  on  thy  leaping  ship !  — 
But  we  should  fail.     Yet  if  I  stay  to  hide 
Thy  flight,  when  the  discovery  is  made 


224  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

—  The  ravished  Image !  —  Ah  but  death  is  good 
If  by  my  dying  thou  returnest  home     .     .     . 
If  a  man  die  —  a  house,  a  name,  is  lost. 
But  if  a  woman  die  —  what  does  it  matter? 


ORESTES. 

It  mattered  when  my  mother  died.     If  now 
Thy  death  were  added,  I  should  have  to  take 
Two  deaths  upon  my  head.     Instead  of  that, 
Let  come  what  may,  I  mean  to  share  thy  f  ate  - 
Alive  in  Greece,  or  here  beside  thee  dead. 

But  it  is  evident  the  Gods  are  with  us. 
If  Artemis  opposed,  should  I  have  been 
Expressly  sent  by  Her  own  Brother  here 
To  bring  Her  Image  back?     She  wishes  it  — 
For  in  the  very  Temple  of  the  Image 
As  a  good  omen  I  have  seen  thy  face! 
O  what  does  all  this  mean  but  our  return? 

IPHIGENIA. 

How  can  we  steal  the  Image  and  not  die? 

ORESTES. 

Can  we  not  kill  the  King? 

IPHIGENIA. 

And   dare  the   Gods 
Again?  —  for  he  was  kind  to  me. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  225 

ORESTES. 

And  yet 
It  might  be  dared  —  if  it  would  save  our  lives ! 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  like  thy  boldness.     But  it  cannot  be. 

ORESTES. 

Shall  I  stay  hidden  in  the  shrine  till  dark? 

IPHIGENIA. 
And  then  at  night  escape? 

ORESTES. 

Are  we  not  thieves? 
The  day  for  honest  men,  the  night  for  thieves! 

IPHIGENIA. 

We  could  not  pass  the  guards. 

ORESTES. 

What  can  we  do  then? 

IPHIGENIA. 
Perhaps  we  — 

ORESTES. 
What? 


226  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

May  use  our  own  misfortune! 

ORESTES. 

Women  have  ways  of  changing  ill  to  good. 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  shall  announce  thee  as  a  matricide!     .     .     . 

ORESTES. 

If  there  is  good  in  that,  make  use  of  it! 

IPHIGENIA. 

As  one  unworthy  to  be  sacrificed! 

ORESTES. 

Thou  meanest?  —  ah  but  I  can  guess! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Unclean, 
Unpurified  and  unacceptable! 

ORESTES. 

But  how  does  that  attain  our  purpose? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Pure 
Sea-water  must  be  used  to  cleanse  thy  sin! 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  227 

ORESTES. 

But  that  would  mean  the  Image  left  behind 
And  all  our  labor  unfulfilled. 

IPHIGENIA. 

She  too, 

Having  been  touched  by  thy  approach,  must  be 
Washed  clean,  the  Image  too! 

ORESTES. 

And  might  it  be  — 
There,  by  the  inlet — ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Where  thy  ship  is  moored. 

ORESTES. 

And  who  will  bring  the  Image?  —  none  but  thee? 

IPHIGENIA. 

For  none  may  ever  carry  it  but  me. 

ORESTES. 

And  Pylades  ?  —  is  he  a  murderer  too  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

He  aided  thee.     He  also  must  be  cleansed. 

ORESTES. 

A  story  for  the  guards  —  but  for  the  King? 


228  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

In  any  case  I  could  not  keep  it  from  him. 
So  he  shall  hear  it  and  shall  be  persuaded. 

ORESTES. 

The  oarsmen  shall  be  ready  for  their  orders, 
But  here  ashore  thine  is  the  sole  command. 

Yet  let  me  ask  one  question.     Will  these  women 
Be  true  to  thee  and  not  betray  thee?     Pray 
For  their  assistance.     Urge  them  and  convince  them. 
Thou,  as  a  woman,  knowest  woman  well. 
Then  use  the  power  of  thy  need  of  pity     .     .     . 
And,  after  that,  let  Heaven's  high  will  be  done! 

IPHIGENIA. 

0  friends  who  have  been  near  and  dear  to  me, 

1  trust  you!     On  you  depends  my  destiny, 
Whether  I  keep  or  lose  my  home,  my  kin. 
Woman  to  women,  I  appeal  to  you. 

For,  knowing  our  own  weakness,  we  are  bound 
To  feel  a  woman's  need  and  to  defend 
Our  sex  and  to  be  loyal.     Will  you  not 
Be  silent  now  for  my  sake?    This  is  all, 
Yes,  all  I  ask  of  you, —  only  your  silence. 
By  honoring  us,  do  yourselves  honor  too! 

See  how  a  single  chance  is  left  us  three!     .     .     . 
Discovery  means  death.     Escape  means  home! 

If  I  escape,  shall  I  not  work  for  you 
Till  I  deliver  you  ?  —  till  thou  and  thou 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  229 

Shall  join  me  in  my  joy  at  home  in  Hellas  — 
And  thou  and  thou!     I  pray  thee  by  thy  hand; 
Thee  by  thy  cheek ;  thy  knees ;  thee  by  thy  home ; 
Thy  father  and  thy  mother;  thee,  thyself 
A  mother  with  a  child  away  from  thee, 
I  pray  thee  by  that  child :  —  be  merciful ! 

O  which  of  you  consent?  —  and  which  refuse, 
When  to  refuse  us  means  betraying  us? 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

0  count  upon  us,  Lady,  on  our  love  — 
And  go  thy  way  content! 

By  Zeus  we  swear  unbroken  loyalty. 

IPHIGENIA. 

1  bless  you  for  those  words.     I  wish  you  joy. 

(To  Orestes  and  Py lades) 

Now     do     thy     part  —  and     thine.     Enter     the 

Temple. 

The  King  will  soon  be  here  to  make  inquiry 
Whether  the  strangers  have  been  sacrificed. 

(Orestes  and  Pylades  go  inte  the  Temple) 

Grim  Goddess,  having  saved  me  once  before, 
Now  save  me  with  my  brother  and  his  friend, 
Lest  Phoebus  be  disproved  because  of  Thee 


230  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

And  men  forsake  His  oracle!     O  come 

In  gracious  might  away  from  this  bleak  place, 

Away  from  gloom  —  to  Athens  and  to  glory ! 

(She  follows  into  the  Temple) 

THE  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

0  sad-voiced  ocean-bird,  heard  in  the  foam 
Low  by  the  rocky  ledge 

Singing  a  note  unhappy  hearts  can  hear, 
The  song  of  separation  from  thy  mate, 
The  moan  of  separation, 

1  have  no  wings  to  seek  like  thee,  but  I 
Can  sing  a  song  like  thee, 

A  song  of  separation  from  my  mates. 

At  home  in  Hellas  now  are  gathering 

My  kinsmen.     Artemis 

Blesses  the  new-born  from  Her  Cynthian  hill 
And  soothes  the  mothers  with  the  cooling  palm 

And  bay  and  olive-tree, 
Where  once  Latona  loved  the  winding  streams 

And  watched  the  rounded  pools 
White  with  the  song-like  motion  of  the  swans. 

Alas!  the  falling  tears,  the  towers  fallen, 

The  taking  of  our  towns! 
Alas !  the  clash  of  bright  and  angry  spears 
That  captured  me  aboard  an  alien  ship !  — 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  231 

Whence  I  was  sold  away 
To  be  an  exile  here,  a  handmaiden 

With  Agamemnon's  daughter, 
Doomed  to  the  bloody  rites  of  Artemis. 

THE  FOURTH  MAIDEN. 

And  at  these  altars  where  the  sacrifice 

Is  not  of  sheep  but  men, 
I  envy  those  unhappy  from  their  birth; 
For  to  be  bred  and  seasoned  in  misfortune 

Is  to  be  iron  to  it.     ... 
O  there  is  something  in  the  pang  of  change 

More  than  the  heart  can  bear  — 
Unhappily  remembering  happiness. 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

Lady,  a  ship  is  here  to  take  thee  home, 

And  in  the  rowers'  ears 
Pan  shall  be  sounding  all  his  pointed  notes, 
Great  mountains  echoing  to  his  little  reed, 

And  Phoebus  on  his  lyre 
Shall  strike  profound  the  seven  strings  and  sing 

To  thee  of  Attica, 
Shall  sing  to  thee  of  home  and  lead  thee  there. 

Oar  after  oar  shall  dip  and  carry  thee, 

Lady,    away   from   me, 
Oar  after  oar  shall  push  the  empty  sea 
Wider,  wider,  leaving  me  lonely  here, 


232  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Leaving  me  here  without  thee. 
And  forward  over  the  unceasing  bow 

Thy  sail  shall  faster  run, 
Ever  refilling  with  the  unspent  wind. 

THE  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

0  to  go  swiftly  like  the  winged  sun 
Upon  his  dazzling  track 

And  not  to  let  my  golden  light  be  folded 
Until  I  touched  my  house,  my  roof,  my  room! 

Then  I  should  go  again 
To  noble  marriages  and  take  my  place 

In   the  bright  company, 
Give  them  my  hands  and  circle  round  and  dance. 

And  I  should  strive  to  be  the  loveliest 

In  all  my  looks  and  ways, 
In  my  unrivalled  brightness  of  attire 
And  in  the  motion  of  my  hands  and  feet; 

And  my  embroidered  veil 

1  should  hold  closely  round  me  as  I  danced 
And  I  should  hide  my  cheek 

In  the  soft  shadow  of  my  clustering  curls. 

(Enter  King  Thoas  with  Soldiers) 

THOAS. 

Where  is  the  keeper  of  the  Temple-gates, 
The  maid  of  Hellas  ?     Is  her  labor  done  ?  — 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  233 

Are  the  victims'  bodies  burning  in  the  shrine? 

A  MAIDEN. 

See  where  she  comes,  to  answer  thee  herself. 

(Iphigenia    comes   out    of   the    Temple,    carrying 
the  Image) 

THOAS. 

What  does  this  mean,  daughter  of  Agamemnon? 
Why  hast  thou  brought  the  Image  from  its  place  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

0  King,    stand    back!  —  stand    back    beyond    the 

threshold ! 

THOAS. 

Is  it  some  new  observance  in  the  Temple? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Stay  back,  I  tell  thee,  from  Her  holy  presence! 

THOAS. 

1  will  stay  back,  but  tell  me,  tell  me  why 
Thou  bearest   Her  like  this. 

IPHIGENIA. 

The  sacrifice 
Thou  gavest  to  the  Goddess  was  unclean. 


234  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

THOAS. 

How  dost  thou  know?  —  what  makes  thee  think  — 

IPHIGENIA. 

She  turned 
Away  from  them, —  away  when  they  approached. 

THOAS. 

Might  it  not  be  some  tremor  of  the  ground 
That  moved  Her. 

IPHIGENIA. 

No.     By  Her  own  will  She  moved  — 
And  even  for  a  moment  shut  Her  eyes. 

THOAS. 

Because  of  blood  upon  the  strangers'  hands? 

IPHIGENIA. 

It  was  Her  divination  of  their  guilt. 

THOAS. 

Whose  blood  ?     A  Taurian's  blood  ?  —  killed  on  the 
beach? 

IPHIGENIA. 

The  guilt  was  with  them  when  they  came;  the  stain 
Of  killing  their  own  kin! 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  235 

THOAS. 

Their  kin?    What  kin? 

IPHIGENIA. 
A  mother!  —  whom  they  murdered  in  cold  blood! 

THOAS. 

O  great  Apollo,  what  barbarian 

Would  do  the  thing  these  Greeks  have  done  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

But  Greeks 
Disowned  and  homeless,  hunted  out  of  Hellas. 

THOAS. 

Even  then  why  bring  the  Image  here? 

IPHIGENIA. 
Defiled, 

She  must  be  purified,  be  touched  again 
By  Her  own  firmament. 

THOAS. 

How  dost  thou  know 
So  well  the  nature  of  their  infamy? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Seeing  Her  turn  away,  I  asked  them  why. 


236  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

THOAS. 

Thou  art  a  Greek,  quick-witted,  a  true  Greek! 

IPHIGENIA. 

They   too   are    Greeks.     They   thought   they   could 

appease  me 
With  pleasant  news. 

THOAS. 

Of  Argos? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Of  my  brother, 
News  of  Orestes. 

THOAS. 

To  inveigle  thee! 

IPHIGENIA. 

And  of  my  father  —  that  he  lives  and  prospers. 

THOAS. 

Thou  hadst  no  doubt,  however,  of  thy  duty? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Has  not  all  Hellas  well  deserved  my  hate? 

THOAS. 

What  must  we  do  with  them? 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  237 

IPHIGENIA. 

Observe  the  law. 

THOAS. 

Thou  meanest  with  the  water  and  the  knife? 

IPHIGENIA. 

First  fully  cleanse  them  of  their  sin. 

THOAS. 

With  water 
From  a  bubbling  spring  or  from  the  salty  sea? 

IPHIGENIA. 

The  sea  is  the  absolvent  of  all  evil. 

THOAS. 

The  sea  would  better  please  the  Goddess  then? 

IPHIGENIA. 
And  me. 

THOAS. 

The  breakers  almost  reach  these  walls. 

IPHIGENIA. 

But  certain  of  the  rites  are  secret  rites. 

THOAS. 

Then  choose  thy  place  and  fear  no  trespasser. 


238  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

And  I  must  purify  the  Image  too. 

THOAS. 

Have  they  contaminated  even  Her? 

IPHIGENIA. 

So  that  I  had  to  bring  Her  from  Her  place. 

THOAS. 

Thanks  for  thy  reverential  care. 

IPHIGENIA. 

O  King, 
Command  the  help  I  need. 

THOAS. 

Ask  —  it  is  given. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Then  let  the  strangers  be  well  bound. 

THOAS. 

Why  that? 
Where  could  they  think  to  flee? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Beware  of  Greeks! 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  239 

THOAS. 

(To  his  Servants) 
Go,  bind  them. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Have  them  brought  to  me. 

THOAS. 

And  bring  them. 

IPHIGENIA. 

But  hang  a  heavy  veil  over  their  heads. 

THOAS. 

For  they  must  not  be  witnessed  by  the  sun. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Send  soldiers  with  me. 

THOAS. 

Choose  thy  guard  from  these. 

IPHIGENIA. 
And  let  a  herald  warn  all  citizens. 

THOAS. 
Of  what? 

IPHIGENIA. 

To  stay  indoors  till  this  is  done. 


240  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

THOAS. 

Lest  they  as  well  might  suffer  the  contagion? 

IPHIGENIA. 

From  matricide. 

THOAS. 

Go  tell  the  herald  this. 

IPHIGENIA. 
And  anyone  I  care  for  — 

THOAS. 

Meaning  —  me  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Him  above  all  I  caution  against  harm, 
Not  to  come  near. 

THOAS. 

Thou  carest  what  we  do. 

IPHIGENIA. 
Thou  seest 

THOAS. 

And  what  thou  dost  means  much  to  us. 

IPHIGENIA. 
Wait  here,  O  King  —  thy  share  is  in  the  Temple. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  241 

THOAS. 
To  — 

IPHIGENIA. 

Purify  it  with  the  smoke  of  torches. 

THOAS. 

It  shall  be  fragrant,  priestess,  to  receive  thee. 

IPHIGENIA. 

When  they  come  by  — 

THOAS. 

What  must  I  do? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Hold  up 
Thy  robe  and  look  away. 

THOAS. 

From  the  contagion. 

IPHIGENIA. 
And  if  I  seem  delayed  — 

THOAS. 

How  shall  I  tell? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Be  not  surprised,  but  patient. 


242  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

THOAS. 

Take  thy  time 
And  serve  the  Goddess  to  the  uttermost. 

IPHIGENIA. 

If  it  but  end  as  I  desire!  — 

THOAS. 

And  I! 


IPHIGENIA. 

Ah,  here  they  come!  —  the  strangers  and  the  robes, 
And  lambs  whose  blood  shall  offset  other  blood, 
And  burning  torches  and  all  instruments 
Purification  needs  for  them  and  Her. 

Away,  O  citizens,  be  not  polluted! 
You  keepers  of  the  gates,  keep  clean  your  hands! 
Men  who  would  marry,  women  who  would  bear, 
Be  not  polluted!  —  look  away  —  away! 

0  Virgin  Goddess,  if  these  murderers 

Be  cleansed  as  I  would  have  them  cleansed  and  Thou 
Be    brought    as   well    where    I    would    have    Thee 

brought, 
Thy  Temple  shall  be  clean  and  we  be  blest ! 

1  say  no  more  —  but  Thou  and  those  who  know 
May  render  the  conclusion  of  my  prayer. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  243 

(The    procession    passes    out.     Thoas    enters    the 
Temple) 

THE  THIRD  MAIDEN. 

Latona  bore  one  day  a  golden  Child, 

O  Artemis,  Thy  Brother, 
Phoebus,  the  darling  of  the  vales  of  Delos  — 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

Whose  little  fingers  hovered  on  the  harp 
And  pulled  at  archery. 

THE  THIRD  MAIDEN. 

Leaving  His  birthplace,  to  Parnassus'  top 
The  Mother  brought  Her  Boy  — 

THE  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

Where  Dionysus  flings  the  waterfall. 

THE  THIRD  MAIDEN. 

There  hidden  coiling  in  the  leafy  laurels 

A  serpent,  with  bright  scales 
And  blood-red  eyes,  a  creature  born  of  Earth, 
Guarded  the  cave  that  held  Earth's  oracle. 

Phoebus,  beholding  it,  leaped  up 
Out  of  His  Mother's  arms,  a  little  Child, 

And  struck  the  serpent  dead  — 

THE  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

And  on  that  day  began  His  prophecies. 


244  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

THE  FOURTH  MAIDEN. 

Phoebus  Apollo,  Thou  hast  won  the  throne, 

The  tripod  of  the  truth ! 
And  in  the  very  centre  of  the  earth 
Thou  hearest  wisdom;  and  Thy  voice  conveys, 

Accompanied  by  all 
The  run  and  ripple  of  Castalian  springs, 

The  inmost  oracles 
That  ever  Heaven  whispered  to  the  Earth. 

THE  THIRD  MAIDEN. 

But  Earth  had  wished  the  oracles  to  go 

To  Themis,  Her  own  daughter, 
And  in  Her  anger  bred  a  band  of  dreams 
That  in  the  night  should  be  oracular 

To  men,  foretelling  truth. 
And  this  impaired  the  dignity  of  Phoebus 

And   of    His   oracles  — 

THE  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

And  the    baby  God  went  hurrying  to  Zeus, 
Coaxed  with  His  little  hands  and  begged  of  Zeus 
To  send  the  dreams  away     .     .     . 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

And  He  was  very  pleased  to  have  His  son 

Come   straight   to   Him   with   troubles.     And    His 

head 
Decided  with  a  nod 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  245 

That  men  should  turn  from  the  prophetic  dark 
And  every  haunting  shape  — 

THE  FOURTH  MAIDEN. 

And  listen  only  to  the  lips  of  Light. 

A  MESSENGER. 

(Entering  breathless) 

O  all  you  ministers  and  temple-guards, 

Where  is  King  Thoas  gone?     Open  the  gates 

And  call  King  Thoas  out!     O  call  the  King! 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

If  we  may  ask  unbidden  —  is  something  wrong? 

THE  MESSENGER. 

The  two  young  men  have  broken  free  and  fled, 
With  Agamemnon's  daughter  aiding  them  — 
And  on  their  ship  have  taken  Artemis! 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

A  likely  story !  —  Wouldst  thou  find  the  King, 
He  left  the  Temple  but  a  moment  since. 

THE  MESSENGER. 
Where  was  he  bound  ? 


246  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

I  do  not  know  which  way. 

THE  SECOND  MAIDEN. 

Go  look  for  him,  go  find  him  with  thy  story! 

THE  MESSENGER. 

O  treacherous  women!     You  would  put  me  off, 
You  are  in  the  plot  yourselves! 

THE  THIRD  MAIDEN. 

Art  thou  gone  mad? 

What    are    these    men    to    us?     Quick!     To    the 
Palace! 

THE  MESSENGER. 

Not  till  I  know  to  my  own  satisfaction, 
Not  till  I  rouse  the  keepers  of  the  Shrine 
To  answer  me!     Ho!     You  inside!     Unbar 
The  door!     The  King,  if  he  is  there,  tell  him 
A  messenger  has  come  with  evil  news! 

(He  beats  at  the  door) 
THOAS. 

(Appearing  at   the    Temple-Door) 

Who  makes  this  outcry,  desecrates  the  door 
And  shakes  this  holy  place? 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  247 

THE  MESSENGER. 

Their  fault !  —  their  fault ! 

They  told  me  thou  wert  absent  from  the  Temple, 
They  put  me  off  from  finding  thee. 

THOAS. 

But  why? 
Why  should  they  wish  — 

THE  MESSENGER. 

Let  that  come  afterward. 
O  listen  first  to  what  I  have  to  tell!  — 
Iphigenia  who  was  priestess  here 
Has  joined  the  strangers,  fled  with  them  and  taken 
Artemis'  Image !  —  the  cleansing  was  a  lie ! 

THOAS. 

Unthinkable !  —  What  evil  influence  — 

THE  MESSENGER. 

The  chance  to  save  Orestes  —  yes,  Orestes ! 

THOAS. 

Orestes?  —  which   Orestes?     Not  her  brother? 

THE  MESSENGER. 

Yes,  whom  the  Goddess  wanted  for  Her  altar. 

THOAS. 

It  is  impossible,  I  cannot  grasp  it! 


248  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

THE  MESSENGER. 

But  do  not  stop  to  grasp  it !  —  listen  first, 
Consider  what  to  do !  —  and  then  command 
What  means  may  intercept  and  capture  them! 

THOAS. 

There  is  no  danger  in  these  Taurian  Seas 
Of  their  escaping.     For  the  way  is  shut  — 
Stationed  and  cordoned  with  a  ring  of  ships! 

THE  MESSENGER. 

No  sooner  had  we  reached  the  bend  of  shore 

Which  hid  their  ship,  than  Agamemnon's  daughter 

Made  signs  to  us  to  drop  the  rope  that  bound 

The  men,  to  leave  them  and  fall  back.     It  seemed 

That  she  was  ready  to  perform  the  rites, 

To  light  the  mystic  flame  and  bless  the  sea. 

She  took  the  rope  herself  and  followed  them 

Still  further.     And  we  felt  presentiment 

Of  something  wrong.     But  what  were  we  to  do? 

We  heard  her  voice  chant  a  high  mystery 

Of  phrases  in  an  unknown  tongue,  seeming 

To  us  the  ceremonial  incantation, 

The   ritual   of   purifying  sin. 

And  then  we  waited  a  long  time.     At  last 

The  fear  occurred  to  us  that  they  had  burst 

Their  bonds,  had  killed  her  and  escaped.     But  still 

We  waited,  fearing  with  an  equal  fear 

To  see  what  was  forbidden  us  to  see     .     .     . 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  249 

Until  with  one  accord  agreeing  to  it 
We  disobeyed  and  went  to  find  them. 

There 

We  saw  the  ship  from  Hellas  near  the  shore, 
And  fitted  in  the  tholes  were  fifty  oars 
Like  feathers  in  a  wing,  and  just  astern 
The  two  youths  boarding  her.     Some  held  the  prow 
With  poles  thrust  in  the  water,  others  brought 
The  anchor  up.     The  rest  had  made  of  rope 
A  ladder  hanging  from  the  rail.     By  this 
We  knew  their  scheme.     And  we  laid  hold  at  once 
Of  the  Greek  maid  and  seized  the  trailing  ladder 
And  pulled  their  rudder-oar  away  from  them 
To  cripple  them  and  cried :     "  What  treachery 
Is  this?  —  to  steal  our  priestess  and  our  God? 
Who  art  thou  and  whose  son  to  raid  our  land 
And  bear  our  priestess  off?"     And  he  replied: 
"  I  am  Orestes,  son  of  Agamemnon, 
I  am  her  brother.     Now  you  know  the  truth. 
And  she  is  bound  for  Greece,  out  of  which  land 
I   lost  her  long  ago  —  bound   home!" 

We  clung 

To  her  and  meant  to  drag  her  from  her  friends 
To  thee;  which  is  the  way  I  came  by  these, 
This  bruise  —  and  this.     They  struck  my  face  both 

sides. 

They  had  no  weapons,  we  had  none.     We  used 
Our  fists  and  they  their  fists,  even  their  feet 
With  kicks  well-aimed  at  us  from  where  they  stood 


250  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Above  us  —  at  our  heads  and  sides.     We  fought 
Till  we  were  breathless.     Then,  with  bruises 
And  cuts  and  blood-filled  eyes,  we  climbed  the  cliff 
And,  from  our  vantage,  pelted  them  with  stones  — 
Till  the  Greek  archers  had  arranged  their  bows 
And  kept  us  a  distance  with  their  arrows. 

Then  when  a  giant  wave  bore  them  inshore, 
Orestes  quickly  lifted  up  his  sister 
Out  of  the  rush  of  it.     Holding  her  high 
On  his  left  shoulder,  plunging  stride  by  stride, 
He  caught  the  ladder,  swung  aboard  the  ship 
And  held  her  safe  on  deck.     And  she,  she  held  -  - 
She  had  it  still  —  the  Image  out  of  Heaven, 
The  Image  of  the  Daughter  of  high  Zeus! 

Then  a  glad  call  exulted  through  the  ship: 
"  O  mariners  of  Hellas,  grip  your  oars 
And  clip  the  sea  to  foam!     O  let  your  arms 
Be  strong,  for  we  have  won,  have  won,  have  won 
What  we  set  out  to  win !     We  have  defied 
The  jagged  Clashing  Rocks  —  and  we  have  won!" 

A  shout  of  joy  responded  and  the  ship 
Quivered  with  dipping  oars  and  shot  ahead. 
But  this  was  only  while  the  shelter  lasted; 
For  at  the  harbor-mouth  a  high  wave  met  her 
And  threw  her  off  her  course.     She  turned  about, 
Caught  by  the  stormy  wind,  until  her  stern 
Was  foremost  and  her  prow  toward  shore.     They 

tugged 
The  oars,  rallied  and  strained  —  but  every  time 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  251 

They  brought  her  round,  the  deep  wave  dragged  her 

back 

Again.     And  Agamemnon's  daughter  stood 
And  prayed :     "  O  save  me,  Artemis,  from  this 
Unhappy  place  —  to  Hellas !  —  and  forgive 
My  theft!     As  Thou,  O  Goddess,  lovest  well 
Phoebus,  Thy  brother,  shall  I  not  love  mine  ?  " 

The  sailors'  praises  echoing  her  prayer, 
They  bent  their  bodies  and  their  great  bare  arms 
And  shoulders,  swaying  like  the  sea, 
To  the  boatswain's  cry.     But  closer  to  the  cliff, 
Closer  and  closer  still  they  drew.     And  some 
Sprang  out  into  the  sea.     And  some  began 
Attempts  to  fasten  hold  on  the  sharp  shore 
With    ropes.     And    then   our   men    despatched   me 

here, 

O  King,  to  tell  thee  of  this  thing.  ...  So  come 
With  chains  and  cords  —  for  while  the  sea  is  high, 
There  is  no  earthly  chance  of  their  escape! 

Poseidon,  God  of  the  Sea,  remembering  Troy, 

The  city  that  He  loved,  confounds  today 

The  wretched  children  of  her  enemies 

And  will  deliver  up  to  thee  and  thine 

The  son  and  daughter  of  the  King  of  Argos  — 

That  daughter  who,  forgetful  now  of  Aulis, 

Betrays  the  Goddess  who  was  kind  to  her. 

(The  Messenger  goes  out) 


252  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

O  Lady,  Lady !  —  O  alas  for  thee ! 

In  Taurian  hands  again, 
Thou  and  thy  brother  surely  now  shall  die! 

THOAS. 

Come,  citizens,  and  be  uncivilized! 
Leap  on  your  horses!     Whip  them  to  the  beach! 
Wait  with  me  there  until  a  wave  shall  break 
That  ship  from  Hellas.     Then  —  be  after  them ! 
And    hunt    them    down,    each    damned     dog    of 

them! 

Do  this  for  Artemis.     And  some  of  you 
Go  launch  my  galleys,  lest  one  man  of  them 
Should  die  untortured!     Run  them  down  by  sea 
And  land!     Go  hurl  them  from  the  cliffs! 
O  catch  them,  kill  them,  crucify  them,  end  them! 

And  as  for  you,  you  miserable  women, 
Count  on  the  punishment  you  have  deserved 
By  treachery!     I  have  not  time  for  you  — 
With  this  to  do.     But  O  when  this  is  done! 

(In  the  confusion  appears ,  with  instant  dominion, 
Pallas  dthena) 

V 

ATHENA. 

Be  calm,  King  Thoas !     What  is  this  pursuit  ? 
Hold  back  and  listen  to  Athena's  word. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  253 

Hold  back  the  soldiers,  hold  them  every  one. 

Apollo  sent  Orestes  to  this  land 

To  free  him  from  the  Fiends  of  punishment 

And  told  him,  through  the  oracle,  to  bring 

Iphigenia  home  again  to  Argos 

And  likewise  to  my  land  the  holy  Image.     .     .     . 

That  is  my  word.     And  let  me  follow  it 

With  news  that  this  Orestes  thou  wouldst  hunt 

Is  gliding  on  a  comfortable  sea 

Made  easy  by  Poseidon  for  my  sake. 

Orestes!  —  thou  canst  hear  a  God  far-off  — 

Obey  me!     Take  thy  sister  and  the  Image 

Safely  to  Hellas.     Go  to  God-built  Athens 

And,  passing  through,  go  forward  to  the  end 

Of  Attica.     Find  there  a  holy  place 

Close  to  Carystus'  hill,  a  place  called  Halae. 

There  build  a  Temple.     There  set  up  the  Image. 

Name  it  for  Tauris,  to  immortalize 

Thy  penitence  and  thy  deliverance, 

Thy  labors  and  thy  love.     Let  men  acclaim 

The  Taurian  Artemis,  brought  there  by  thee. 

And  let  this  be  the  law:     When  they  observe 
Her  festival     ...     in  token  of  thy  fate 
The  priest  must  hold  against  a  human  throat 
The  sharp  blade  of  his  knife  and  touch  the  edge 
With   blood,   then   cease  —  meaning   that   life,   not 

death, 
Is  the  true  element  of  sacrifice. 


254  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Iphigenia !  —  there  are  steps  for  thee 

Hewn  to  the  rocky  Shrine  of  Artemis 

At  Brauron.     There  the  keys  be  in  thy  keeping. 

There  shalt  thou  die,  be  buried  and  receive 

Upon  thy  grave  most  honorable  gifts, 

The  purely-woven  raiment  of  dead  mothers 

Who  honorably  died  in  giving  birth. 

O  Thoas,  I  command  thee,  send  to  Hellas 
These  women.     They  were  true. — 

I  saved  thee  once, 

Orestes,  when  on  Ares'  hill  I  judged  thee 
And  voted  for  thee  when  the  votes  were  equal. 
Now  let  it  be  the  law  that  he  who  earns 
An  equally-divided  verdict  wins 
His  case.     Therefore  go  safely  from  this  land, 

0  son  of  Agamemnon.     And  thou,  Thoas, 
Be  thou  content  to  put  thy  wrath  away. 

THOAS. 

He  who  is  discontented  when  the  Gods 
Have  given  judgment  —  is  a  fool.     For  my  part, 
Goddess,  I  bear  no  grudge  against  Orestes 
Nor  against  her  who  took  away  the  Image. 

1  make  no  opposition  to  a  God, 

For  where  would  be  the  use?     So  let  them  go 
In  peace  and  set  the  Image  in  Thy  land. 
These  women  too  may  go  —  they  shall  be  sent 
To  Hellas  to  be  happy.     At  Thy  word, 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  255 

I  bid  my  ships  turn  back  from  the  pursuit     .     .     . 
Behold  my  spirit  and  my  spear  bowed  down. 

ATHENA. 

Well-spoken!  For  thy  spirit  learns  a  law 
Greater  than  thou  and  greater  than  the  Gods. 

O  winds  of  heaven,  blow  Orestes  home  — 
And  I  will  guide  him  on  his  way  to  Athens, 
Guarding  Thy  Image,  Artemis,  my  Sister. 

THE  FIRST  MAIDEN. 

Fare  well  in  your  good-fortune!     May  it  bring 
Joy  to  you  always. 

THE  FOURTH  MAIDEN. 

Pallas  Athena,  blessed  is  Thy  name 

In  Heaven  as  on  the  earth. 
Let  us  be  mindful  that  Thy  words  are  wise 
And  welcome  and  unlooked-for  and  complete 

And  let  us  do  Thy  will, 
O  Conqueror  of  hatred  and  of  fear!     .     .     . 

The  more  in  Thee  we  lose 
Our  lives,  the  more  we  find  our  life  in  Thee. 


THE   END 


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